The Undiscovered Country
by Miss Yvonne Hartman
Summary: Smallville/Hunger Games AU: The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tollie, Lexana, Clois. Now COMPLETE.
1. The Reaping

The Undiscovered Country

"I guess that's why I would win the Games," Tess said softly, the stain glass windows painting her face in shades of blood and gold, "no decent person does."… Tess has been reading 'The Hunger Games' with Alexander, and wonders what her life would be like if she was reaped for the Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois…

AN: Welcome, welcome, Happy Hunger Games! So this is an AU version of Smallville, where the entire cast were selected to represent their District in the 72nd Annual Hunger Games.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

C_hapter 1 – The Reaping_

The morning of the reaping dawned bright. I sensed that the bed was empty as I woke and on the pillow, where usually I would see Oliver's sleeping face, there was a single yellow rose. A gift on Reaping day. I wonder if the nightmares he is plagued by woke him, and if so, why he didn't wake me too. Sometimes I feel his body convulse when he's locked in nightmares and I coax him out of the shadowland. Other times he shakes my shoulder, and I open the harbour of my arms to his weary body and hold him until we fall asleep again. I twirled the rose slowly in my fingers before I sat up and pushed my red hair out of my eyes. I cannot appreciate the perfume or the softness of the petals, not when my stomach is full of acid like this.

I kick out of the sheets and fix myself up for the morning, brushing my teeth and putting the rose in a cup of water on the window sill. I know where Oliver will be, either swimming or fishing, but somewhere near the water. I take a detour from rushing out to see him, to check on my little sister, Megan. I hovered near the head of her bed, watching her sleep. She looks serene, her oval face so vulnerable in slumber, she looks a lot like me, the same high cheekbones and slanting nose. But her mouth is prettier and her hair is in dark waves, a counterpoint to my vibrant red curls. I feel my heart break with how much I love her, how far I would go to protect her. But I have no power over the Reaping, I have no way to prevent the parade of horror that is the Hunger Games we are forced to celebrate each year. Megan sighs in her sleep and I don't want disturb what precious peace she has on a day like today. I press a kiss to her forehead. I leave the room silently and steal out of the house, breaking into a jog when I reach the gate.

District 4. Fishing. The smell of salt water is carried on the high breeze, the steady rush and retreat of the waves on the sand like the intake and exhale of breath in deep sleep. I jog through the town towards the beach, my eyes scanning for the man I know like the back of my hand. I see him, walking down by the water's edge and my heart suddenly feels like it's too big for my chest. I run.

"Oliver!" I cry for him, the sand between my toes is still cool, the sun has not yet gathered enough heat this early in the morning to make it scorch. He turns and catches me in his arms. Kisses me hard, his lips hot against my mouth. My Oliver.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, as we sit on the sand, me leaning into his side, watching the waves roll in and out. I take a deep breath.

"Alright. I mean, two years in the future and I could be free of this." I sit on my hands to stop the faint shake. "I'm scared for Megan." I'm always scared for Megan. She's only thirteen this is her second Reaping.

Oliver is the voice of reason. Well, as reasonable as you can be in this situation, it's not like we have an active choice in the matter. We do not have any power to stop the slaughter of our children. Maybe it is more the voice of gentle optimism. "She'll be fine. Her name's been in there only twice. She's a Career, Tess. And so are you."

Yes. I am a Career. I have spent my life so far training in survival and slaughter. I know how to wield knives and swords and arrows and spears. But Megan… I don't want her to ever be tainted by the horrors of the Arena. I look at Oliver's profile. He was my age, seventeen, when he won his Games, six years later and he still has nightmares, is still looking over his shoulder for attackers that are not there. Sometimes I worry he never left the Arena. And then there is the Capitol, where all his wounds are reopened. I've never been to the shining city of the Capitol, although Oliver frequently visits, for parties and the Games of course. He mentors our tributes, alternating with some of the other Victors to try and bring our Tributes home. They are not always successful. We've only had one victor in the last ten years.

I don't want that to ever happen to Megan. I'd rather volunteer myself for her. I know Oliver wouldn't let her starve if I died.

Our District's principal industry is Fishing, supplying the Capitol, where the rulers of our country Panem reside, with seafood to eat and minerals they slather on their skin to make them look young. But I think they look like freaks, with their wigs and skin dyed, stenciled and surgically altered beyond any capacity of aesthetics. Freaks and Barbarians. But I don't say this out loud, you can't be found to be causing or speaking dissent. Although he tries to mask it, I can see the pain in Oliver's eyes whenever he is called to the Capitol. Usually he goes swimming, not wanting to talk to me or watch me pack his clothes for the journey. Sometimes I think he rages and screams everything underwater, where nothing but the salt and the fish can take his words. Oliver hates the place, the Capitol is the epitome of waste and excess in a world where Districts starve to death. Our District is what I've been told is slightly wealthier than others; We have the resources to train our kids for the Games, as do Districts One and Two, the luxury and masonry districts respectively. None of the other Districts can do this, the tributes from Six to Twelve are often the ones to die in the Bloodbath at the Cornucopia or go in the first few days. They always have a horribly starved, pinched look about them when their Reapings are broadcast. District Three has managed to scrape a few Victors as they deal in electronic items and have a certain genius and wit about them. While the Games are a fight to the death, they also entail a few weeks of running around whatever landscape they've been thrown into, so the ability to hunt, gather food, make shelter and outsmart the other Tributes may tip the odds of survival. One Game, the boy from Three electrocuted half the arena and won, so it's not always about who can throw a spear the best. All while the people of the Capitol place bets and laugh and drink while these children are brutally murdered onscreen. They make me sick and angry, at what they take from us, our families. And what they took from me, in the way they ripped my Oliver to pieces.

He holds me tighter and I think - _I love this man_. I do. Our love wasn't a blazing inferno right at the start. He refuses to talk about his Games, even though I saw them on television live. He was reaped for the 66th Hunger Games and after three days of training and an impressive score of 10, the arena opened onto an island with fierce jungle and rough waves. Ten tributes died in the Bloodbath. The remaining tributes, namely the careers and both of ours from 4 – Oliver and the girl tribute, a dark eyed beauty named Mercy Graves – dispersed into the jungle. Oliver battled his way through, having made it out of the Cornucopia with a bow and arrow, knives and a backpack of food and water. And when he started to run out, sponsors stepped in. But while the food and water helped it wasn't enough, he still had deadly snakes to avoid, was almost eaten alive by bugs and freezing at night. And you can't forget the other tributes, all of them out to cut your throat.

As the days progressed and the tributes dropped from fights or the elements, Oliver was doing well with the bow and arrow, keeping himself fed when one day he put his hand on the thorned stem of a bush with the most vivid purple flowers. The thorns were poisoned and he was dying fast, the toxin working through his body, when Mercy found him.

By all means, she could have left him. She was starving, injured and he was on his way to death anyway. So it was of course a surprise when she hauled him to a sheltered outcrop of rocks and tried to save him. She used leeches to get the toxin out, shared their food and kept him warm at night. When Oliver was well enough, they were able to resume hunting together, get more sleep and food and plan their strategy.

Neither of them were talking about the elephant in the room. The fact that only one of them could make it out alive. I think Oliver was angling for it to be Mercy who was crowned. But the odds weren't in their favour.

The mutts that year were vicious, genetically engineered boars and in a pack attack, only the District One tribute, a huge eighteen year old named Marcos, survived. With only three left, the Gamemaker's called for a feast. Feasts in the Hunger Games often are used when they need to wind it up, spill more blood and crown the Victor.

Mercy was wicked with the sword, but District One was equally as deadly. The battle was fast, blood was so thick that even now with replay we don't know who was who until there was an awful silence. Oliver had shot Marcos through the chest with an arrow dipped in the poison that had almost killed him – who crumpled and fell back, twitching - he turned to Mercy, but she was lying on the blood soaked ground, a small spear was lodged in her stomach. Oliver held her as she died, begging her to not leave him as the light faded from her eyes.

Oliver was crowned victor, the hovercrafts came in to collect the bodies. He was never the same. Even now I can tell that he sees Mercy in his mind. I know that it's her he has his nightmares about; it's her that he begs to stay alive.

When he came home he was a hollow man. He drank; he took morphling and was rarely seen. And then one day we met. I don't even know how it happened, but we ran into each other at the solstice festival. He had been drinking again, I was fourteen, too young to touch the liquor, but he offered and the burn of the alcohol was nothing compared to the fire his lips caused on mine. It took a while for our relationship to blossom, to move from those frantic stolen kisses to something deeper. It first had to survive in a wasteland. But Oliver sobered, and I grew up. I trained harder and harder at the Academy, trying to outrun the Reaping each year. Oliver knew he was safe but I wouldn't be until my nineteenth birthday.

"Come on, what do you want to do today?" Oliver asked, snapping me out of my reverie. I leant over and kissed him deeply.

"Whatever you want." I say and we stand up. We take one of the boats out and decide to go collect the crab baskets for a fisherman friend of Oliver's dad. Oliver rows the boat. It's only on the open water that I can truly breathe easily. I lean against Oliver's chest, loving the warmth of the sun. "Oliver. What if we kept sailing?" I asked. "What if, what if we didn't turn back, just kept on going." I point to the white horizon line.

Oliver shook his head. "We can't Mercy. They'd send in hovercrafts faster than you could blink. They'd cut out your tongue if they didn't shoot you on the spot." He sighed heavily. "Besides. There's nothing out there anyway."

I do not know much about geography. All of our learning in school is controlled by the Capitol, we adhere to their curriculum. It's true that no one knows if there are other countries. Apparently there had been once. A whole world of land and sea and culture. But if there's anything left, we do not know. The boundaries of the world Oliver and I live in are the flashing buoys bobbing out on the waves and the razor wire fence before the forest. And to some extent the Capitol. That is what we know. Fishing and school and training and slaughter. And Death. It hangs over everything. Even though I can wield I sword, I've never killed another human being. Another _child_. The most I've done damage to are the training room dummies. I don't know how I would do in the Arena. I've seen the faces of the Tributes onscreen, the sheer terror in their eyes. When the time comes I suppose that I would fight and kill to keep myself alive, but I will not relish it. I wonder what would happen if all the kids sat down on the grass in front of the Cornucopia and refused to fight. The Gamemakers would probably send in mutts, or blow us to smithereens, but I still wonder.

"Yeah. It was a stupid idea." I say, trying to hide my hurt. Oliver stopped rowing as we glided up to a floating marker. I reached into the cool blue water, grabbing the rope and hauling it up. Oliver grabbed too and we pulled the crab cage up from the depths. Dripping water all over our clothes, we dropped it to the floor of the boat.

"Five crabs." I announce. It's a fantastic number for the first basket and we transfer the crabs to a water filled bucket. We sail on, bringing up crabs and sending the baskets back until we have finished. All these crabs about to go to the market and their death in the Capitol. I look up at Oliver before my mind can continue on its morbid avenue of this year's Reaping.

"You ok?" he asks me. I nod slowly, reaching out for his face and pulling him in for a kiss.

"I'm ok when I'm with you." I tell him. He hugs me close as the boat bobs on the waves and it's so quiet until he shifts, sighs and says:

"We should get going, Tess."

I let him row us back to shore in silence and after dropping off the crabs we return to his house in Victors Village. He disappears and I busy myself making breakfast for him and Megan. She has finally gotten out of bed and is sitting, white as a little ghost with fear, at the kitchen table. I put her breakfast of bread and scrambled eggs in front of her.

"I can't eat." She says.

"Just try a mouthful, ok baby?" I reply. I don't want to eat either but I force a spoonful down and chew my seaweed flecked bread. Megan does as she's told. "See, you'll need your strength if you're going to the Capitol." I try to joke but she glares at me, knife poised in her hand. I should know better, Megan's specialty in training is knife throwing and she's got pretty good aim for her thirteen years. "Ok. Ok. Bad joke."

I stand up, my plate finished and kiss her on the top of her dark head. "You won't be going to the Arena, Meg, I promise. If I have to Volunteer for you, I promise."

She suddenly clutches at me, her arms tight around my waist and I set the plate down so I can hug her back. "I love you." she sobs against my stomach and I fight the heavy lump in my throat.

"I love you too." I kiss her again, "but don't worry, it won't be us."

"Will you help me get ready?" she asks. I wipe away her tears with my thumbs and nod.

"Of course. Go have a bath and I'll find you a dress." Megan gives me another hug and I watched her leave the room, wishing that we were a million miles away from the world we live in. Wishing we were safe.

I wash the dishes. Given Oliver's status as a Victor he has tonnes of money and we can afford food from the grocers. It is better than many of the other people who live in District 4. Meg doesn't know hunger like some of the kids who live on the fringe of the District do. Even still we are not Capitol rich, we don't possess a dizzying wealth. Megan wears my old dresses and I haven't had anything new in a long time. Oliver tries to bring me something nice back from the Capitol, but even he can't always do that. But I don't care for riches. I just want him and Megan.

I watch the ocean, taking in every part of the sparkling blue, hoping that this will not be the last time I see it.

Upstairs, Megan is out of the bath and I rifle through her closet, trying to find something suitable for her to wear. The Reaping is another humiliation, making us stand there in our Sunday best while our freak of an Escort pulls out the names of 2 kids that will never come home. I keep my bitterness to myself and give Meg a pretty pink dress that was mine several years ago.

"You haven't worn this in a while and it's clean." I say. She holds the material and nods approval. I leave her to get dressed myself. Oliver's house has running water that is always hot and I even wash my hair before twisting it into a roll and pinning it into place. I choose a white dress from my small wardrobe, tying the blue sash in a bow. I meet Meg on the landing and she turns so I can do up the buttons on the back of the dress. "You look great, baby." I say. I brush her dark hair but leave it out, tying back the front section in a ribbon to match her dress.

The siren blows and she jumps a foot in the air, clutching at me. "It's ok. It's ok. It's time now." I soothe her. Oliver is waiting at the bottom of the steps. He's the current mentor with Pete Ross the Victor from the 57th Games, so he will be onstage today.

"You are so beautiful." He tells me, foreheads together. I kiss him, holding myself close in his arms, never wanting to let go. "So beautiful."

"I love you." I tell him. He hugs Megan as well and we walk to the Justice Building holding hands. Megan and I have to sign in so he reluctantly released my hand, kissed me one more time and forced himself away. I won't get a chance to say goodbye to him after the Reaping, he goes straight to the Train with the Tributes. I sear his image into my brain until Megan gives me a shake.

"Come on." I say. We sign in and I hug Megan tight. "I'll find you after this ok?" before she turns I have an awful thought and call her back, "Don't Volunteer. If it's me, don't you dare volunteer, Megan or I swear I'll kill you myself!" I kiss her forehead, making her swear to it and she kisses me and goes to stand with the thirteen year olds. I make my way to the seventeen year old area and find my friend, Jamie Kite who is so pretty with her blond hair and blue eyes. A few metres away from us is Emil Hamilton, a boy I used to go around with before I met Oliver. He looks nervous and I call him over.

"How are you?" he asks, pulling out of our hug. I give a non- committal shrug that he mirrors. We're not exactly over the moon about being here. "How many times is your name in?" he asks.

In all the Districts you can take out Tesserae, which is putting your name in an extra time in exchange for grain and oil. I did this for my first four Reapings before I met Oliver and we moved in together in my fifteenth year. (We are not legally able to marry until I am eighteen but neither of us could wait, my parents are dead and Megan needed a real home.) Entries to the Hunger Games are cumulative, so I have 21 entries. Megan, who I vehemently said no to taking any Tesserae only has 2 entries. Emil, who has seven younger brothers has an unmentionably high number. I don't want to think about the odds.

The Reaping begins, our Escort, Eva Greer, saying her traditional speech in her flouncy Capitol accent. The Mayor reads the Treaty of the Treason, where the twelve Districts revolted against the Capitol and now we pay for our rebellion with the blood of our children in a barbaric and disgusting game. Alright, so he doesn't say it with those exact words, but everyone knows that's what is implied.

And then Eva Greer moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. Don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie.

But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!"

_To be Continued..._


	2. The Tributes

The Undiscovered Country

"I guess that's why I would win the Games," Tess said softly, the stain glass windows painting her face in shades of blood and gold, "no decent person does."… Tess has been reading 'The Hunger Games' with Alexander, and wonders what her life would be like if she was reaped for the Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois…

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 2 - The Tributes_

The Games are rigged. That's my first thought as I stand there in the middle of a group of seventeen year old girls. How? How could it have been my name? My name is in the draw comparatively less than some of my peers. I'm in numb shock until I hear a horrible, strangled cry ring out across the square.

"Tess Mercer." Eva Greer, grotesque with her blue facial tattoos swirling across her cheeks and down her throat, repeats, searching the faces for me. I feel the girls retreat a little, giving me space. Jamie is looking at me with wide eyes, her grip on my hand cutting off the blood in my fingers. I take a deep breath as she releases me and I take a step. I can see Oliver on stage, looking horrified and I feel myself start to walk towards him. It's the longest walk; my heart doesn't feel like it's even beating anymore as I pass the silent children, their ages descending until they are tiny twelve year olds and then nothing, emptiness on either side. I am on the steps, on the stage, the escort grabs my arm and hauls me towards the microphone. I can't hear what she's saying, everything is static. I don't want to meet Oliver's eyes. I wish I was dreaming this.

But I'm not. I'm firmly stuck in a reality where I am standing on stage, my name being pronounced over the loud speaker again. There is a call for Volunteers. They do this, sometimes there are Careers that feel the odds are in their favour enough to bring them home. It is what I would be doing for Megan if the roles were reversed. I can see her in the crowd and it's then I realise the person who cried was her, and she's now sobbing into the chest of a blond girl. She pulls away to look at me, still sobbing and I shake my head. _Don't do it, Meg._ But she's a good girl and there is nothing but the steady rush of the ocean that responds to the call for a Volunteer.

I can't even look at Oliver though I can feel his gaze upon me. I can hear Pete whispering something. I bite the inside of my cheek and stare as fiercely as I can while the cameras eat me up. I won't cry, I won't let the other Tributes make a meal of me before the Games have even begun. The Escort moves on with the show, calling the boys and I am too wrapped up in my own despair to even care who is called. I stare at Megan, held in the safe arms of her friends.

"Emil Hamilton!"

I didn't think it could be any worse than this, but for Emil to be reaped as well? He hides his nervousness and I watch him walk to the stage like I did, stand up on the other side. Our eyes meet, terrified green into terrified brown. There are no Volunteers for him either and our Escort makes us shake hands. I force myself to meet his eyes as he wraps his hand around mine. _I'm so sorry this happened to you_, our eyes say. We break apart. I guess all I can hope now is that someone else will kill him and not me.

"I give you your Tributes, Tess Mercer and Emil Hamilton!" the Escort trills and then add the customary Panem salute, "Happy Hunger Games!"

We are taken into the Justice building, the heavy doors shutting behind us, drowning out the sound of the ocean.

Emil and I are separated and I am directed to a private room. We have one hour to say our goodbyes. Megan is here before I've even collapsed on the sofa, throwing her body into mine and hugging me so tightly I might run out of air.

"Meg." I whisper, my voice cracking. She sobs so hard that I sit down, pulling her into my lap and rocking her body. "Shhh. Shhh, baby it's ok." I soothe.

"Just come back to me." She cries.

I nod, it's all I can do. "I'll try. I'm a Career. I'll…" Twenty-three opponents. Emil. "I'll try, I promise." I kiss her forehead. "Now you listen to me." I tell all the things she needs to know – do well in school, trade my clothes and possessions for things she needs, train hard. I tell her Oliver won't abandon her but she can get a job on the boats if she needs to. I find I'm repeating myself, how can I fit a lifetime of advice and guidance into an hour? I apologise for all the things in her life that I'll be missing. And I feel the first tear fall and allow myself the grand total of 5, which are soaked up by Megan's dark hair. She sits up, her eyes red and takes off her bracelet. It's a thin black one, made of plaited threads that I gave her years ago for her birthday.

"Your token." She said, pressing it into my hands. I nod and she secures it around my wrist because my fingers are shaking so badly I can't manage. "Wear it in the Arena."

"I will." I say and hold her close in silence as our final minutes together slip by too quickly. The door opens and Jamie steps inside. I make Meg get off my lap so I can hug my friend. She doesn't cry in front of me, even though her eyes are pink so I know she has been.

"I'll look after Meg." She promised, with a glance at my little sister. "If you… I'll make sure she gets bread and doesn't take Tesserae. I promise."

"Thank you." I whisper and hug her back tightly. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves us, her shoulders shaking.

I play with Megan's hair absently, "see, you will be ok. Jamie will look after you. You don't have to stay in the house all by yourself if you're scared, stay with your friends or Jamie ok?"

"I won't be scared." She mumbles. I stroke her hair and kiss her again. "I just want you to come home, ok?"

A guard pounds on the door, making us jump. "Times up!" and Megan is shouting and sobbing for me, her thin arms encasing me in our final hug.

"I love you! I love you!" I keep telling her as she is taken away. A guard collects me and I re-join Eva Greer, Emil, Pete and Oliver – who still hasn't looked at me – and we are taken in a car to the station and then onto the train.

"Oh you'll just love it! Such luxury!" our Escort was gushing as we stepped aboard. It was luxury. It was the most nauseating display of wealth and glitz I'd ever seen. Glass and crystal sparkled, huge displays of food – cakes and ices and fruits I'd never seen before – plush fabric covered sofas. Emil beside me was looking shocked. The train is beautiful in a gaudy, swirling way and I hate it.

"Alright." Pete Ross finally said, "Your rooms are that way, I'm guessing you'd want a minute alone."

He guessed right and I made my way through the train, sensing that I was alone. I looked back, Oliver was sitting on the couch with his face in his hands. I didn't go back to him. I went to my room and shut the door in the same way he was shutting me out. The room was huge; there was a majestic double bed, a chest of drawers, a sofa and an ensuite bathroom. I finally let myself cry, releasing all the pent up emotion in my chest. I am terrified. I am going to die and the man I love won't even talk to me. I go wash my face and stop myself form crying, and when I get out of the bathroom he's there in my room.

"Oliver." I say his name. He looks at me like he's lost all hope. I go straight in on the attack, demanding an answer to his silence. "Why aren't you talking to me? Because I'm going to die?"

"Tess."

"It's your job to mentor me, right? You get me sponsors and you help me out. So. Help. Me." I growl, stepping close to him. "You can't abandon me right now, Oliver Queen!" I was instantly enfolded into his embrace. Oliver breathed into my hair, holding me close and I clung to him like he was a raft in a storm.

"I'm sorry." He said, "I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, there was no point in being sorry now. I never thought for a moment that being the Victor's girlfriend made me safe.

"You're coming home." He said. "You're coming home. You're smart, you can fight, I'll get you sponsors. Ok… I'll help you, I promise…" he trailed off. I rested my face against his shoulder and breathed him in. "I wanted you to be safe, Tess." He said.

"I know. I know. Oliver…" I whisper back. There is nothing I can say. I stand on my toes, put my hands on either side of his face and kiss him. It sets my lips on fire as he kisses me back, my mind clouds and I give in to the kiss and his warm arms and pretend that I was never Reaped, that we were still in that boat, sailing to an undiscovered country.

After half an hour, where Oliver and I sit on my bed, just holding each other, Pete and Eva Greer call us into the main cart for supper and we sit down to watch the Reapings. Any notion I'd entertained about surviving this deflates at the sight of my competition.

The Careers from District One look tough. Really tough. A huge bald eighteen year old boy, Lex, and a dark haired, devious looking girl, Lana. District Two are just as menacing. Clark, the boy, volunteers almost before they have called the original tribute and his female offsider, Lois looks like she might rip out someone's throat when she's called. District Three Reaps a tiny blond fifteen year old, Chloe who looks like she might make a good ally, and a tall, dark haired sixteen year old, Davis.

I watch myself get Reaped, followed by Emil. Megan is sobbing hysterically in the crowd and I am glad I didn't allow myself to break down on stage. I look just as threatening as the other Careers, which can be an advantage. Oliver won't let go of my hand.

"You look so brave." He whispers, squeezing my hand.

District Five, Milton and Zatanna, and Six, Mera and Arthur, are unremarkable. The boy from Seven, Zod, looks terrifying with his size and sharp blue eyes, the girl Diana has waves of dark hair and looks like a fighter. Districts Eight to Ten slip by without making an impression, and the pair from Eleven, Dinah and Reagan are blond. Then there is District Twelve and my heart breaks. Up to this point none of the tributes have been under the age of fourteen, but the boy from Twelve, Alexander, is a tiny twelve year old. He looks like an angel with strawberry blond curls and huge grey eyes. No one Volunteers for him. The girl, Courtney, is fifteen and looks like she's never seen a full meal in her life.

The show is over. Twenty-four Tributes. One Victor.

May the odds be ever in your favour.

_To be continued… _

**AN**: So, the complete Tribute list is as follows:

District 1 _-_ _Luxury_: Lex Luthor (18), Lana Lang (18)

District 2 _- Masonry_: Clark Kent (18), Lois Lane (18)

District 3 _- Electronics_: Chloe Sullivan (15), Davis Bloom (16)

District 4 _- Fishing_: Tess Mercer (17), Emil Hamilton (18)

District 5 _- Power_: Milton Fine (15), Zatanna Zatara (17)

District 6 _- Transportation_: Mera Waters (14), Arthur Curry (15)

District 7 _- Lumber_: Zod (18), Diana Prince (16)

District 8 _- Textiles_: Jimmy Olsen (15), Alicia Baker (14)

District 9 _- Grain_: Hal Jordan (16), Kara Kent (14)

District 10 _- Livestock_: Carter Hall (17), Imra Ardeen (15)

District 11 _- Agriculture_: Regan Matthews (17), Dinah Lance (17)

District 12 _- Coal_: Alexander (12), Courtney Whitmoore (15)


	3. Woo Them

The Undiscovered Country

"I guess that's why I would win the Games," Tess said softly, the stain glass windows painting her face in shades of blood and gold, "no decent person does."… Tess has been reading 'The Hunger Games' with Alexander, and wonders what her life would be like if she was reaped for the Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois…

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 3 – Woo Them_

Pete says to get some rest. Yeah right, like that's going to happen! I am so tightly wound that I lie awake for hours in the bed that is too vast and empty without Oliver. I don't think he's handling this very well, barely speaking to me and giving me miserable looks. I pound the pillow beside me in a sudden burst of frustration. I'm the one going to the Arena and all I've done is comfort other people!

I can't lie here anymore, the sheets are drowning me. I kick my way free and throw myself into the ensuite. I splash water on my face but it isn't enough so I strip down my Capitol pajamas which are green and swirly, taken from the expansive wardrobe, and turn on the shower, letting the hot water wash over my body. I sigh with intense relief as the water cleanses my skin. I wonder what Megan is doing right now, if she's alone in Oliver's house or if she's staying with Jamie. Is she thinking about me? I wrap my arms around myself and let the water take my tears. I hope she is brave in the weeks to come. I hope that whatever she sees on screen, I won't be tainted in her memory because of it.

I want to stay in the shower forever, but obviously I can't do that so I turn off the water and wrap myself in a towel, drying my hair and walking back into my main room. I find a new nightdress in the closet and a dressing gown too. I still don't feel sleepy and so, with bare feet, I go in search of something to eat, hoping that I run into Oliver on the way.

I get my wish. He's sitting on the couch, watching a recap of the Reaping on mute. I lean in the doorway and watch him for a moment before he senses I'm here.

"Hey." He offered a thin smile.

"Oliver?" my brow knits and my voice is fragile with apprehension.

"Tess." He stands, opens his arms and I run straight to them. I sink into his embrace, my cheek against his chest. I can hear his heart pounding as he helps me sit down on his lap, rocking me like I'm a child. I let him because for this moment, I don't want to be a brave Tribute. I don't want to act in front of him. "I'm so scared." I feel my voice rising in hysteria. "I'm scared about the Arena, the Tributes, about Emil! Emil, Oliver, I can't kill him! I can't even think about what's happening to Meg… if she'll be ok…"

"She will, Tess, ok, she will. I won't let anything happen to her. She's going to stay in my house." Oliver says, his hand going to cup my cheek. "I'm not going to throw her out. I promise."

I lean in and kiss him in thanks. He's silent when we pull apart.

"I can't sleep." I say. "I can't sleep unless you're there."

Oliver hugs me to his side. "Come on then." He whispers and we stand, go back to my room where we slip under the covers. I know we won't have sex, I'm too high strung to relax, but it feels so good to have Oliver hold me in his arms as the train speeds towards the Capitol in the ink black night.

The next morning, breakfast shows promise. Emil and I sit down opposite Oliver and Pete with plates piled high with mouth-watering good food. We eat while they talk. Oliver had chosen me to Mentor which is fantastic, because I trust him implicitly. And Pete keeps batting his lashes at me and threatening to steal me from Oliver if I get back which is getting on my nerves. He might be the first person I seriously injure.

Once we had eaten, Pete and Oliver got right down to business, asking if we wanted to be coached separately. I take this option before Emil says anything and Oliver and I leave the table, going to the final carriage of the train. It's all glass, so I can see the landscape flashing by. I've never been this far from home before, I can't see District Four anymore, and still have miles to go. Rocky mountains, wide fields and the perfect blue sky. I sit down on a comfortable white sofa, hugging a pink and blue striped pillow to my chest while Oliver fiddles with a panel of buttons and the whole roof slides away. I laugh, the first real laugh, at the wind plays with my hair and the hot sun touches my skin.

"I like seeing you happy." Oliver said as he sat beside me. I curled my feet up under my legs and faced him. "Let's get started. Training? What can you do?"

I narrow my eyes. "You know me, Oliver, don't pretend I'm some Tribute kid you've never met before. I like the sword, ok, it's what I'm most comfortable with. Hand to hand combat is excellent and I'm the fastest runner in the year. I have the District record." I'm also strong, despite my small size, I've been working on the boats since I was a child so hauling ropes and scrambling up the mast is easy for me.

"Bow and arrow?" he asks hopefully. Archery is his forte and passion. Sometimes he comes down to the Training rooms at school and shows the little kids how to shoot.

I shake my head, I don't possess the same deadly talent as Oliver does, "Not amazing. That is solely your area."

He smiles. "Knives?"

"Love 'em. I'm pretty good." I'm saying that modestly, although Megan is the one with the most accurate aim, I can deliver a death blow nine times out of ten.

The carriage door opens and one of the silent servers comes in carrying a tray of food and coffee. She sets it down on the table and leaves. "Avox." Oliver says under his breath, "A traitor against the Capitol. They cut out their tongues and make them work as slaves."

I feel my stomach flip in disgust. What a horrible fate. I suddenly don't have much appetite, but Oliver pours us coffee. I love coffee. Back home Oliver can afford to buy it with his winnings from the Games. I add sugar and milk to my taste. I guess Eva is right, this train and the whole lead up to the Games is one extravaganza of luxury that, for a Tribute not as jaded as I am, must be incredible. I try to imagine growing up the opposite to my life. I was lucky to meet Oliver. Because of him, Megan and I have full meals and a comfortable home. Some of the children in the District have very little. They definitely don't have sugar and coffee. I put my cup down and kiss him.

"What's that for?" he asks me.

I shrug, "Just… showing how grateful I am. To you."

He pulls me in close and whispers in my ear, "I know a really good way to show me that." I slap him playfully and wriggle out of his grip. I can't even think about seduction right now.

"Well, Mr Queen, tell me how to survive the Games and I'll really show you how grateful I am." I say silkily. His eyes darken and he steals a kiss from my lips. I don't mind him taking it, because I can count on one hand the days I have left in his company, so my chances to kiss him are dwindling rapidly. God I could just kiss Oliver all day long. But I have to focus, so I take some fruit from the platter the Avox left and settled back onto the cushions to listen to Oliver. It's a very long speech about strategy and planning and the billion tasks I have to do – photo shoots and fittings and the Parade and Alliances and training. My head is starting to spin when he says, "The thing about the Games is that it's a television show. It's not real."

I choke on a bite of food. "The deaths would be pretty real!" I snap.

Oliver clenches his fist, I'm not making the morning easy for him and I think he's getting tired of my attitude. Frankly I think I'm entitled to it. But Oliver continues. "You want sponsors so you play to what they want to see… you're good looking, Tess, you can woo them easily."

"They'd sponsor me on sex appeal? What should I do - Take my clothes off?" I lean towards him, dropping my eyelids.

"No. We'll think of that later with your stylist." He scowls. "You can fight and you know how to survive, you can get sponsors because they will think you're a good investment. You stand a high chance."

"So what do I do at the Cornucopia?" I ask him, reaching for another muffin and slathering on a bright red jam that tastes divine, but I have to put down with disgust after two mouthfuls when a sly thought in my head notes how much it looks like blood. The Cornucopia is the centre point of the Arena – a huge golden horn that holds items essential to survival - food, weapons, water, and shelter. Some years vary the contents, one year there was no food, one year the Arena was a frozen wasteland so there were thermal suits. But always weapons. Always.

Oliver frowns, picking at his plate. "It's a bloodbath. It will depend on the Alliance."

Alliances are chosen before the Games begin and more often than not, the Careers all team up into a pack that pick off the weaker Tributes until the tension splits them as well. Oliver says we can decide on the matches later, when I see the other Careers in training. I still don't like the look of any of them, they could help my survival just as easily as they could get a knife in my back.

"Bloodbath or not, let's be serious, we can't survive without supplies." I say.

"I know you're a fast runner, you might be able to make it and grab what you need, but getting out…" Oliver finally shakes his head. "I'm going to say no, Tess. Just turn and run the other way. You can make a spear from a stick if there's wood. You know how to fish, you can find a water source. Stay up high, the trees if you can climb them." A ghost of an expression passes his face as the train is plunged into darkness that makes me jump. We have gone into a tunnel. "Just stay alive, Tess. That's the most important thing."

He presses buttons and the glass ceiling returns and we retrace our paths back to the main dining room. I follow him to the window, twirling Megan's bracelet on my wrist. "Do you want to see the Capitol?" he asks.

We shoot back into bright sunlight. The city is breathtaking. It's enormous, District Four could probably fit in six or seven times. White buildings rise on the horizon, the train passes over a sparkling waterfall. As we come closer I can see that the whole city shines, gold and silver and pink. It's surrounded by water which cascades into a waterfall that our train zips above.

"Wow." I hear an awed gasp and see Emil has joined me at the window. He gives me a smile. "It's very impressive."

I nod. He looks thinner almost, despite all the food. I can see the worry in his eyes. Like the Reaping day I grip his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. Oliver puts his hand on my shoulder as we get a first glimpse of the waiting crowd and I groan inwardly. Capitol fashion is eye watering – colours are so intense, fabrics swirl in architectural dresses, skyscraper shoes, wigs and hair dye and stenciled, tattooed skin. It's a circus.

"Wave." Says Pete. "Smile." We do as he says and the crowd goes wild, waving back at us, shouting "District Four! District Four!" over and over.

"Why did you make us do that?" I ask as the train comes to a stop.

Pete looks steadily at me and says, "Woo them, gorgeous. Make them fall in love with you."

Right. Woo the crowd paying to watch me murder and be murdered. I can do that.

Not.

Oliver looks exasperated. "You're going straight to prep."

"You didn't mention anything about prep? What's prep?" I demand, following him to the doors. Emil and Pete are behind us.

"You need to be cleaned up and camera ready before the Tribute Parade tonight." Oliver says. "Just… don't fight it." He kisses me hard, promises to find me after the parade and lets me go. I keep looking over my shoulder as a trio of white coated beauticians take me away, but Oliver and even Emil and Pete, have been swallowed up by the crowd, leaving me alone.

_To be continued..._


	4. The Parade

The Undiscovered Country

"I guess that's why I would win the Games," Tess said softly, the stain glass windows painting her face in shades of blood and gold, "no decent person does."… Tess has been reading 'The Hunger Games' with Alexander, and wonders what her life would be like if she was reaped for the Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois…

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 4 – The Parade_

We have soap in District 4, but not like this. I've been dunked in three changes of foul smelling liquid, my hair has been scrubbed so hard that I'm amazed I still have it on my head, and currently the hair on my legs and arms is being ripped out in what can only be the most painful form of torture I can image. Have these three beauticians got any idea how much pain I'm in? I try to mention that they could forget about my legs but they laughed.

"The very idea! You can't go out in public with hair like that! It's unsightly!" exclaims one.

I wonder if she knows how unsightly she looks. Her skin is dyed blue. Blue!

I force myself to not yelp at the pain and grit my teeth until finally they finish plucking my eyebrows, shaping my nails and getting a little too intimate with my body. I mean, I don't even let Oliver see me this naked, but these three don't have a problem with it and I've had to give up on covering my breasts since they needed my hands for a manicure.

I am so relieved when they pronounce me complete – acceptable – and say my stylist will be in shortly. Stylists are there in the Games to help the Tributes make an entrance. Like Oliver said about it being a show, there is the pageant element where the Sponsors can see the Tributes and start deciding where to place their benevolent kindness. The Tribute parade is tonight and each Tribute is dressed to reflect their Districts main industry. I'll be something marine based since District 4 is fishing. It's not terrible, not like the slutty coal miner theme for Twelve or the unchanging tree costumes for Seven, the District responsible for paper and lumber. But still, our costumes are not exactly the most inspiring. Not like the year our Tributes were dressed as clownfish. That was just humiliating.

The door opens and my stylist enters. She's not what I was expecting –tattoos, lights, flashing colours in her skin – instead she wears pale, perfect makeup, a wig that brushes her shoulders and is a silvery blonde, and a knee length blue dress. She looks remarkably understated for the Capitol.

"Hello, Tess." She says with a smile, "I'm Faora."

"Hi." I say. I don't know what it is, but I trust her instantly. She sweeps my naked body with her blue gaze and nods.

"Come through, and put on this robe." She gives me a white dressing gown that was placed on the chair and I cover myself gratefully. We go through the doors and are in a sitting room, Faora orders food. I hadn't realised how hungry I was, I must have been in prep for hours, and I wolf down as much as I can.

"You were very brave in your Reaping." She says in a quiet voice. "Who was the girl who cried?"

"My sister, Megan." I reply after swallowing. "She's thirteen, I love her so much." I add before I can stop myself. I wish I could take it back. These people have taken so much from me, they don't deserve to know about my sister.

Faora nods thoughtfully. "I'm very sorry." Our eyes meet. She is sorry that I was chosen? I hadn't been expecting this so I look down at my lap to hide my confusion.

"So. You're meant to make me look pretty for sponsors." I say. She nods again.

"Yes. I want to take the ocean theme, and show the Capitol how beautiful it is… you understand that there is next to no travel between the Districts, not even for Capitol citizens. Many have never seen the ocean… I have a dress that they will never forget. They're going to love you!"

The dress is _breathtaking_. I've never touched anything so delicate as this fabric. Faora calls it silk. The dress itself is strapless with delicate gold and silver beading in a net over the bodice that shimmers gently as I move. It starts in a pale blue that grows deeper in colour and I realise it is an underwater scene, the sunlight crossing the fabric as it goes through the depths. The hem of my dress is the sandy sea floor and the train… it's so beautiful. I don't know how she's done it, but the dress flutters out behind me even though there is no breeze and printed on the silk is a vibrant coral reef. The motion of the dress makes it look like the coral really is swaying in the underwater currents.

Behind me, Faora has her hands clasped under her chin. "Well?"

"I love it. This is… the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I gasp.

She skips with glee and makes me take off the dress so we can do my hair and makeup. "I want you to look natural, so they recognise you in the Arena."

Of course. These pretty dresses are not made to last, the Arena is still my final destination.

She does light highlighting on my face and emphasises my eyes – "such a gorgeous colour, emerald! Oh you're so lucky!" – and paints my lips in pearly pink. She then does my hair so it flows out in incredible red waves, pinned up behind one ear with a silver starfish. I wear gold high heels that are like cages and lace all the way up to my knees and show when I walk through a thigh high split at the front of the dress. Thankfully there isn't much walking tonight because I can barely manage them and have to hold tight to my stylist's arm to stop from falling over.

When I'm back in the dress even I can't stop staring. I look incredible. I've never seen myself look so beautiful before, although Oliver always tells me I'm perfect for him. There must be someone willing to send me food and water in exchange for this!

Then it's show-time and time seems to pick up its pace, everything starting to blur. Faora takes me down in an elevator, which freaks me out as I've never been in one before and wasn't expecting my stomach to flutter unpleasantly, and we join the crowd of Tributes, mentors and escorts and find the District Four chariot. Oliver's reaction is the one I had been looking forward to the most. His jaw drops, his face breaks into a brilliant smile and he leans over, kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, "you are the most beautiful vision, Tess."

Emil is dressed in a blue suit with starfish cufflinks, and looks very handsome, and we are helped into the chariot. In the time we spend waiting I examine the other Tributes, feeling the gravity of the situation hit me as they are now real people, not just figures onscreen. I feel a gaze on me and turn, the boy from One, Lex is watching me, his eyes cutting me into ribbons with the amount of hate in them. I fight the shiver that ripples down my spine and glare back, coolly. He is dressed in a red robe and breast plate, with laurel leaves in a crown on his head - I recognise him as Julius Caesar, a figure from long gone history. His District partner is dressed as a Queen, her hair in braids, body clothed in a flowing white robe that ties behind her neck, gold snakes circling her arms. They fierce and strong, their bodies shine with years of training and full meals. District One are always favourites, and their eyes flash with arrogance.

District Two wear red and blue with capes that fall to the floor, and poor District Three, the electronics manufacturers, are wrapped up in electrical cables that barely cover their private areas. The petite blond girl doesn't look thrilled about this at all. Our eyes meet and I give her a small smile she doesn't return. The boy from Twelve is tinier than I thought, dressed in his little coal miners outfit with a headlamp and grime on his face.

"How are you doing?" asks Emil.

"Ok." I said. "You?"

I expected him to answer but instead he reached out and brushed a stray strand of my hair off my face. Emil and I were a long time ago, we were thirteen for crying out loud, but the way he's looking at me… I drop my gaze as the anthem blares, the volume so loud my chest is vibrating. Faora comes rushing up to adjust my dress and make it fly out behind me before our horse drawn chariot reaches the enormous gates.

"Ok, smile!" Oliver and Pete are shouting at us as we are propelled into the outside air and the wall of sound that hits me like a brick – thousands of people are screaming, crying, cheering, clapping for us. They shriek with delight at my dress and I see myself on the enormous screen. I look mesmerising, from another underwater world.

"TESS! TESS!" I can hear my name being shouted distinctly by the crowd and I wave, blow kisses. _Woo them_, Pete had said, and I did my best. By the time we stopped at the president's mansion I was elated. I must be catching the eye of a sponsor or two tonight.

"Welcome." The voice of President Luthor boomed from above us. "Welcome Tributes. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

I'm too far away to see his face, the president in the shadows. The music swells and we repeat the parade back to the training centre. I can't help but feel utter loathing towards the man, but try to keep it in until the doors have closed, leaving the crowd behind, still trying to catch my kisses.

Oliver and Faora help me out of the chariot and she stops my dress from waving about and it falls back in a sheet of printed silk. I don't realise just how hard I was shaking with nerves until I tried to walk, failed, and stood still, clinging onto the side of the chariot.

"You were incredible!" Eva and Faora gush, "Absolutely wonderful, darling."

I look at Oliver, he has tears in his eyes and all he can do is brush my hand with his.


	5. Ethereal

The Undiscovered Country

"I guess that's why I would win the Games," Tess said softly, the stain glass windows painting her face in shades of blood and gold, "no decent person does."… Tess has been reading 'The Hunger Games' with Alexander, and wonders what her life would be like if she was reaped for the Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois…

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

AN: Hidden in this AU fic are tonnes of Smallville references, they can be dialogue, episodes, mythos, even clothing. Points will be awarded to reviewers who can spot them and tell me the episodes they are from! Y x

* * *

_Chapter 5 - Ethereal_

Our apartment is enormous. Bigger than Oliver's house in the Victor's Village and filled with every luxury imaginable. Compared to my life in District Four, everything is very overwhelming and it only serves to increase my hatred of the Capitol. When I was younger I used to dream about saving the world, to free the Districts and take back the damage done to the environment and the harsh conditions we live in. A brave new world. Only it would be minus the Capitol's population. Now I can't afford to think like that. Now it's my sole survival I have to worry about.

I have a bedroom as big as the ground floor of Oliver's house and I take off the dress and shoes and have a hot shower. I come out reeking of citrus and musk. I wander around for a bit, exploring the wonder of interior design we get to live in for the next four days. My bed is so comfy and I melt into the mattress and the red silk sheets. The lounge area has an enormous sofa and the television is a hologram, projected onto a sheet of marble above the fireplace so it disappears completely when it's turned off. I spend a minute or two childishly watching it fade in and out of existence.

"Hey." Oliver has a swagger in his step when he finds me. He's changed into a different shirt and pants with a blazer. He hugs me tight and then says, "let's get some air."

We step out onto the balcony and I wish I had a jacket. When we had been in the parade the air had been pleasantly cool, but up high where we are it is chilly. Oliver slips his jacket around me. I realize now that the wind would cover our voices, since I can barely hear him.

"You did good. I've already had a few messages of interest in you, so keep it up in training tomorrow." He begins. There's something more, I can tell. "Tess, I want it to be you. Pete and I have agreed that there can only be one Victor and we're making sure it's you."

I know where this is going. If they pour their energies into my survival, Emil will not be going home. I cast my gaze down and answer him with silence. I guess morality is slipping fast already because I nod a little, unable to argue with him.

"You have Megan. She needs you."

"Emil has a family, too." I say.

Oliver is exasperated, "You don't think this is awful for me too! To stand here and choose which one is coming back? And I'm biased. God I am so biased. I am so afraid for you." He glares at me and then pulls me hard towards him. Our lips crash, meld, kissing hard enough to bruise. But two can play at this game and I pour out my fury on his mouth, tearing at his hair as stars blaze in my head. His jacket falls to the ground as he spins me so my back is against the cold stone wall of the balcony, hands running over my skin, leaving heat in their wake. I throw my hand back to support myself and get a horrible zap down my arm. I yelp, breaking away from Oliver.

"The hell was that?!" I massage my aching hand.

"Force-field." Oliver gently held my hand and kissed it better. "There was an incident where a Tribute jumped several years ago." He explained. I shiver. "If it makes you feel better, every Capitol residence is equipped with the same."

I wonder briefly how he knows this, but push the thought away and shake my head. "What a beautiful, glittering prison this place is." I say quietly, so only he can hear. Our eyes meet and I stand on my toes to kiss him once more, but with less fire than before. "Come on, let's go eat. Not sure if you noticed, but they have really good food here." I smile at him.

We sit down to dinner with everyone else and our stylists too, where I eat as much as I can and then go back for seconds. I'm not sure how much food will be in the Arena, so it can't hurt to enjoy it now. I feel so full though and eventually have to put my spoon down and sip my tea while everyone chats about how amazing we were in the parade. Desert is brought out, I've never had strawberries before and I'm intoxicated immediately with their delicious flavour.

"Ah, the parade will be on in a second," Says Eva. With the thick makeup her face is unrecognizable from the woman who called my name yesterday and her dress is an assaulting shade of yellow. I've known her less than a day and she's getting on my nerves. Irritating and oblivious, the Games are fun for her. As she's been telling us non-stop, she's been watching for years, so thrilling, she almost died when something-a-rather happened in the Sixty-Eighth Games… She almost died! Ha.

Emil is rolling his eyes, standing from the table. I take my bowl of strawberries with me and curl up on the couch with Oliver on one side and Emil on the other. The parade is always interesting. Mostly it's humiliating, to see the scared kids dressed up in stupid costumes (District Nine were loaves of bread, District Ten, cows, you get the picture.) I can't get over the boy from One. The way he was glaring at me, like I was his first target. I refuse to be intimidated, at least not visibly, and then I gasp, completely side-tracked by my own entrance.

The person on screen is not me, not a girl in her late teens marked for death. She is a sea creature, she wears a new world on her back. I watch myself bat my lashes, blow kisses. Beside me Oliver is cheering, and Emil even squeezes my hand, saying something I don't hear. The adults are clinking glasses.

"That's it! That's exactly what we want!" Pete shouts, ruffling my hair. "You did it babe!" He yanks me into a bone crushing hug and slaps a kiss on my mouth. Oliver laughs and says "hands off my woman, Pete!" when I jump back, startled.

"You were stunning." Oliver tells me. "You just do that again in your interview."

I shake my head, "I didn't even know what I did. I don't know how to make anyone fall in love with me."

Oliver sighs and says quietly so only I can hear, and my heart melts, "Whatever you did worked on me. I love you."

Eva announces she's going to a party but will be back in time to take us down to training tomorrow morning. Pete and Oliver agree that it's getting late and sends us to bed. In the corridor, Emil stops me and I look up at him.

"You were great." He says.

"So were you. Very handsome. You really rocked this town," I run my hand over his shirt lapel absently. "Emil, I…"

"It's ok, Tess. Goodnight." He skirts the delicate issue and disappears into his room. I act without thinking and bang my fist on the door. He opens it, forehead creased with 'what the heck, Tess?'

"Allies." I snap. "In the Arena. Allies."

He considers slowly. One's survival can only mean the others death. But then he nods once. "If we are still alive after the bloodbath, then alright, Allies."

I turn on my heel and shut myself in my room, thinking about what I've just done. I throw myself onto my bed and stare into space. If Emil dies at my hand I will be a social outcast. No one would talk to the girl who murdered her own District partner. I can't do anything like that in cold blood. Maybe I can play it so that I will do everything in power to help him. I mean, it can't be my fault if the other Careers get him.

Oh God I'm horrible. I can't believe I'm lying here thinking about the least incriminating way to bump off my District partner. I tear at my hair. Megan's bracelet catches my eyes and I twirl it around my wrist. She would disapprove of my plan. But I will do whatever it takes to save myself.

I fall into a restless, fretful dream where I am watching Megan be Reaped instead, and no one hears me volunteer, my voice is lost, my mouth filling up with cotton wool while she is dragged further and further away from me.

_To be continued..._


	6. The Careers

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 6 – The Careers_

After breakfast, Eva takes Emil and me down to the lower floors of the Training centre, where the gymnasium is full of weapons to practice with and survival skills to learn. Since we are Careers, Emil and I are planning to only lightly practice and maintain our shape for the Arena. Pete and Oliver are going for the strategy that we hide most of our abilities – my deadliness with a sword and Emil's skill with the spear – and we observe the other Tributes and try to make Alliances. In the elevator, Eva gives us tips on presentation and behaviour and finished by talking about the training score that will be awarded at the end of the three days. "Because darlings, The sponsors hate to see their money wasted on a low scoring Tribute. You should try to get your very best score in Training. Wouldn't want to think you're a waste."

She's just shot straight to the top of my Seriously Injure List. And judging from the look that crosses Emil's face, I'm not the only one. She leaves us with the group of Tributes and the training instructors and the elevator doors shut.

There are stations that we can choose from and the other Careers go straight for weapons, no surprise there. I watch a few of the younger kids have their first lesson with a weapon, the terror on their faces is sickening. I find a long bo staff and warm up by myself, belting one of the sandbags. I then move on to archery because I could use the practice. It wasn't my forte back home and after a few rounds here I'm still not banking on it in the Arena. I look up at the Gamemakers in their plush alcove above us where they watch the training in order to give us our scores for the Games. I meet up with Emil at the edible plants station halfway through the morning, and we work side by side, identifying what will kill you and what wont.

"How are you going?" I ask him, because the silence between us is unnerving. He smiles at me slightly.

"Swell. You know, couldn't think of anything I'd rather be doing."

I sigh and walk off as soon as the screen tells me that I would have died only three times out of the one hundred poisonous plants that could potentially be in the Arena. I decide to hell with Oliver's idea about appearing to be a total weakling, picking up a sword and feeling the balance. A trainer comes over to help me and we mock fight with a baton that has the same weighting as the sword but won't injure us. You're technically not supposed to get hurt in Training, but if you do, say by breaking your leg falling off the greased bars, you'll still be sent into the Arena. The Trainer is impressed with me, since I managed to duck and block all of his attacks, getting lost in the beautiful rhythm of strike and parry.

We then break for lunch, which is awkward as hell. Most of the Tributes sit alone with their trays of food, and I have full intention of doing this as well, when the girls from One and Two step up on either side of me.

"Hi, I'm Lana."

"Lois."

"Tess." I reply, spooning some grain and stew into a bowl.

"Come and sit with us." They say and I have no choice. We finish filling our plates, get drinks and bread rolls and sit down near the window that overlooks a manicured lawn. I sigh, it is cruel to be separated from freedom by a thin sheet of glass.

"We were so jealous of your dress last night. I could have ripped it right off your back." Says Lana. I smile tightly, thinking that she is insane, her dark eyes glimmer unnaturally. "I would love to be a stylist for the Games, you know, designing clothes and all that."

"They're mostly talented. I was lucky. Better than being bread, I guess." I shrug and the two brunettes laugh like I'm a comedian.

It turns out that Lana is a knife thrower and Lois is a Jack-of-all-trades with weapons. They are both tough, prepared, merciless and arrogant. They laugh and bitch about the other Tributes, guessing which ones will die in the Bloodbath until we are joined by their District partners. I glance around and see Emil is talking with the boys from Eight and Three. He grimaces at me and I turn back, realising that someone has asked me a question.

"Um, sorry, what?"

"I said, you're the Victor's Girlfriend, right?" repeats Lana. I wonder how that news traveled so quickly. The Careers are all looking expectantly at me.

In all the advice Oliver had been running through at breakfast, he failed to tell me what to do on this topic. I briefly entertain the thought of saying 'really? He's a Victor? Ah the illusion is shattered.' But instead I blush and look down.

"Aw, look how embarrassed you are!" Lois chuckles mockingly, "Oliver Queen is so hot. What's he like in bed? He must be a total playboy!"

I wonder if she knows what that means, and frown slightly. "Oliver is an amazing guy. He's decent." I tell her, hiding my irritation. "And very, _very _good in bed." I whisper to Lois, because I think this might be a way to hurt her and indeed she looks shocked and annoyed. And later when we resume training I watch her while I practice setting snares and her aim in archery is way off.

I'm glad when we finish for the day and I can take my sore muscles up to a bath and a good meal in the apartment. I soak away the tension and then dress in a pretty silver Capitol dress. It's strapless and shimmers slightly when I walk, the top strip covered with beading. It's a little gaudy for drifting around the apartment, but what other chances have I had in life to wear something this pretty? I pin up my hair and then make my way through the apartment, which is oddly quiet. I eat by myself and flick through magazines with a cup of tea. It seems everyone is in Games Fever, with new fashion devoted to this year's Hunger Games, and there are pages and pages of the Parade highlights. There's even a guide to styling your makeup like mine! I'm in a magazine! If only Meg could see this… I drift around the apartment so I would be distracted from thoughts of home until finally Pete showed up. He greeted me pleasantly, but I could see he was tired, and so I let him fix himself dinner and a drink before I joined him on the couch. "Where's everyone else?"

He shrugged, "we all got jobs to do, I think Oliver is securing sponsors for you. Eva is… I don't even know." He tapped his watch. "Hate sounding like a stuck CD, but don't you want to be getting some beauty sleep?"

"I can't sleep."

"Me either." he poured himself a drink from the bar.

From outside we could hear the sounds of the partying crowd, rising up. All the cheers, the euphoria surrounding twenty-four teenagers who were about to die… I shook my head. One of the silent servants bought me a cup of spiced milk which was nice and soothing. Then I asked the burning question, "Pete, how did you win your Games?"

He was quiet, looking down at his huge hands while I drank my milk. "I had nothing to lose. And I wanted to impress a girl who was in love with my best friend." He smirked. "I don't know, Tess, once you're in the Arena, nothing else matters. There's no outside world to worry about. It's just you, and your opponent."

"Any advice then?"

"Be fast. Be smart. And be careful about who you team up with, one of my allies went crazy and tried to eat me." I cover my mouth in horror. "Tess, you're going to be fine. Ok? You will. My money is on you."

"I'm just… I don't want to be changed… I don't want to become a monster, Pete."

"You think Oliver and I are monsters?" he arched an eyebrow, making me feel a little embarrassed.

"No…" I shook my head. "But…"

"I know. You'll be amazed what a human can live through, Tess. I believe in you, Oliver believes in you. So you get yourself out of the Arena alive, ok?" He kissed my forehead. "Now go to bed."

I stood up, putting down my glass on the table and thanking him. When I reached the door I turned back, "Pete? Was it worth it? Did you get the girl in the end?"

He smiled, "I'll tell you that story when you come home a Victor, deal?"

I laugh a little, "ok. Deal."

_To be continued..._


	7. The Final Day of Freedom

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 7 – The Final Day of Freedom_

"So, the Alliance requests are in." Oliver announced as we sat down for breakfast.

"Who?" I ask, looking up briefly from a bowl of creamy oats dotted with spring berries that taste divine.

"District Two, they want both of you." I'm kind of surprised, I thought Lois hated me.

"Anyone else in the alliance?" Pete asks mildly.

"Three."

I am a little surprised, I had expected District One. But I guess even Lois has enough wit about her to see that Lana is borderline psychotic. Chloe on the other hand, looks too nice for this type of Game. But I'm willing to have her on my side.

"What do you say?" Pete looks at Emil and me.

"I refuse." Says Emil.

"I accept." I say at the same time. We both look at each other. Our own fragile Alliance has just snapped. I hold his look until he drops his gaze from me and Pete lets out a short, annoyed breath.

Emil stood up suddenly, silverware clattering, "Good luck with your new friends." He snarled at me.

"Just lovely." Pete snorted.

I feel irritation flare up in me and slam my knife down. "What do you expect!? That we're all going to sit around a camp fire and sing? They are sending us to _die_!" I knocked over my drinking glass, soaking the table cloth blue.

"Easy, Tess. Pete, you know this sort of thing happens at this point in the Games. Let's just see how things go." Oliver says calmly. "Tess, teaming up with the Careers is risky but you're smart, I know you are, and an Alliance with a powerful District is not a bad thing." He reaches across the table and taps that back of my hand, "Just keep your wits about you."

I roll my eyes and push my plate away, not hungry anymore.

"Come on, let's get you down to training. Today you will have fifteen minutes to present privately to the Gamemakers, for the scoring. It's really, really important that you show them how amazing you are, Tess."

I nod, pushing my pony tail off my shoulder. Oliver walks me to the elevator and kisses me swiftly. "Play nice with the other kids." He teases and pushes me into the elevator that drops me down to the Training room. I work by myself for the morning, until Lois comes up to check that I've agreed to the Alliance. She quirks her lips in a half smile and tells me this is fantastic before returning to Clark's side at the knife throwing station. Oh we'll have so much fun! I roll my eyes at her back and keep on with practicing snares to catch rabbits until everything blurs by and I find myself waiting in line, by order of District, to be called to present. I still don't know what exactly I will do, probably show them how I can use a sword. I watch as Districts One to the Three walk through the doors in turn and I'm kind of glad I come from one of the early Districts, the Gamemakers won't be bored and drunk when it's my turn. Emil leaves and I want to tell him to do well, impress them, but he doesn't look at me and I have no words to say.

I wait for at least twenty minutes before they called my name. I swallowed, straightened my shirt and walked in with my head held high. The Gamemakers all sit in their alcove, food and drink on a huge buffet. I clear my throat when they fail to notice me after a minute of standing in the middle of the room.

"Tess Mercer. District Four." I say as loudly as I dare. The noise of talk and silverware clinking dies down a little and the head Gamemaker spins in his chair to acknowledge me. Winslow Schlott, Oliver had addressed him as. His dark eyes landed on me, making me suppress a shiver of disgust at who he is, building Arena's for our deaths. We are just toys to him, chess pieces that are moved around the board against our will. I take my place in the centre of the room.

As I had hoped, the Gamemakers are still moderately sober, although I think one of them is asleep. I think about what Oliver said, about impressing them, and mentally blank them out so I can concentrate. I flex my muscles, take a deep breath and begin a routine that I think looks spectacular in my head.

I flip myself backwards, gymnastics was a part of our Training back home and I had the flexibility to tumble across the room to the rack of swords. I grab the one I had practiced with in training, a long slightly curved blade that was famous among an ancient warrior group called Samurais. I throw myself into a one handed cartwheel and take the arm off the first training dummy with a fierce swipe of my blade. I turn sharply, all my years of training boiling down to this display of what I will be capable of in the Arena.

But these are sandbags and plastic dummies. They don't think and breathe. Not like the Tributes I will be facing in the Arena. These dummies don't bleed. The thoughts take over, breaking my concentration just enough to make me miscalculate a step, twist, and fall hard on my ass.

I fell. I FELL!

The Gamemakers laugh. A shot of fury rises up in me. I slash the legs off the dummy, trying to make my accident look like a purposeful manoeuvre as I get back on my feet and behead the damn thing. But we all know that if that was real, if this was the Arena, I would be stone cold dead for that mistake. I've shown enough. I shake my hair out of my eyes; watching the head roll across the training room floor to rest, face up, at the feet of the Gamemakers. I hurled the sword down beside it, the ringing clatter echoing around the silent room.

Without waiting for them to say anything, I stormed out of the room, trying to stop the tears form overwhelming me. Bastards. Laughing their faces off, not caring that I will die the day after tomorrow. Stuffing their faces with food while the children marked for death starve. I hate this place. I walk through the corridor in a blind rage, see an expensive looking blown glass vase resting on a pedestal and knock it off with my hand. It shattered at my feet.

Oh I'll probably be in trouble for the way I behaved, childishly hurling down the sword. I might as well have said 'Fuck You, Gamemakers' out loud, it would have been the same. And I start worrying about Megan, and Oliver, if what I just did will guarantee my death in the Arena. My slow, agonising death.

I press my hands to my face and try to control my hysterical breathing. I don't really know where I am. The corridor is gunmetal grey, plush blue carpet, abstract artworks that line the wall. I don't think the Tributes are allowed to wander around unchaperoned and I try to orientate myself back to the elevators before someone catches me. It's so deadly quiet, the carpet hiding my footsteps. I start walking back the way I came and stop when I pass a door. I guess it's a closet, or a room of some kind, hearing 'ah! Ah! Lex…' My stomach contracted in revulsion and I move on quickly. I guess District One decided they didn't want to die virgins. God as if my day couldn't be any worse, now I want to wash my ears with bleach. I find the elevators and punch the button for my floor.

"Hey!" Oliver spreads his arms for me when I arrive, "how did it go?"

I don't answer him, pushing past his offered embrace – despite how desperately I want to be held tight and safe in his arms – and lock myself in my room. I curl up in a ball on my bed, unable to generate the tears I wish I could cry.

"Tess? Open the door, baby, talk to me." Oliver says through the door.

"Go away!" I shout, throwing a pillow at the wood.

"Tess Mercer you open this goddamn door now!" he shouts back.

I bury myself under the covers and somehow I fall asleep. When I wake up I feel the other side of the bed dip and a warm arm snake around my middle. "How did you…?" I squint at Oliver.

He presses a kiss to my temple. "I picked the lock."

I roll my eyes, "of course you did."

"You wanna tell me about your presentation?"

I feel it all rush back with a surge of nausea in my stomach. I swallow and tell Oliver everything. "And then I threw my sword down and… what if they think I was trying to rebel Oliver? What if they hurt Megan? Or you?" I touch his face, terrified that he would be ripped right out of my arms by guards.

"Shhh, Tess." He soothed, running his hands through my hair. "Things don't happen like that. The Training score is private. No one knows what you did in there, no one can tell, so they can't hurt people as an example." He says. Again he is the voice of cool logic that my frightened mind so desperately needs to hear. I nod, feeling a little bit better. He kissed my forehead. "Come on. Come have some dinner and we can watch the scores be handed out. The worst that can happen is you get a bad mark. And if that happens," he smooths my hair again and smiles tenderly, "I'll just tell all the sponsors that it was intentional, so the other Tributes wouldn't target you."

We sit up and I kiss his palm when he cups my face in his hand. "thanks." I stand and we go to the dining room. Emil is ambiguous about what he showed the Gamemakers, still fuming over the Alliance debacle from this morning. I ignore him, picking at a meal that has limited flavour for me before we sit down in front of the television to watch the scores.

They show our head shots, from one of the photo shoots on the second day where they made me stand in front of a camera and try out different expressions while they flashed and recorded. The next day I saw myself on posters and t-shirts and cards, people of the Capitol buying their very own Tess Mercer merchandise for the Games. Ugh.

Lex and Lana both get scores of Ten, predictably. Lex is a monster, the way he moves and handles weapons, he is terrifying. And Lana is dead accurate with her knives. District Two's Clark and Lois get a Ten and a Nine respectively. Chloe gets a Six. Emil pulls an Eight, which everyone is thrilled about. And then there's me, on screen, staring up into the camera with a small, arrogant smirk playing on my lips. I don't look terrible as I watch my onscreen-self blink and I hold my breath.

Ten.

I got a Ten!

There's applause and Oliver hugs me. I thought I was going to get something below five, but a Ten is great! Oliver got a Ten in his Games. I'm not out of the running yet.

We watch the other scores, some of them good, like the District Seven girl's Nine. Some of them are awful, the boy from six who gets a Three. The boy from District Twelve gets a Six. I'm impressed because he such a delicate looking child, he must have really impressed the Gamemakers.

With a huge sigh of relief I slump back into the sofa pillows, glad that I'm not doomed to no sponsors and a hellish time in the Arena. I mean, it will be Hell, but at least with a Ten people would be willing to send me something.

Feeling reassured, I hungrily ate dinner before falling into bed. As usual I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable and fall asleep, haunted by dreams about what could be waiting for me in the Arena.

By mid-morning, after absolutely no sleep, I'm losing hope again. The interviews are going to be hell. We have three minutes on stage with Perry White, the host of the Hunger Games who has been commentating the Games for as long as I can remember. In our short interviews, we work the audience, whether we are fierce, or sexy or arrogant. Oliver sits down with me and examines me with a hard stare.

"What?" I ask, when he's silent for a long time.

"Just thinking of your angle."

"I thought I was taking my clothes off."

"Shut up, Tess, this is serious." He swipes his hand across his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "How you present up there depends on who I can secure as a sponsor for you. Ok. Things we can do… sexy, fierce, strong." Baby I can be intelligent, dangerous, seductive and deadly if that's what you want. I think. I can do that for Oliver, but for the whole of Panem? That's starting to stretch it a bit. Oliver starts off by asking random questions from a piece of paper and I try answering them as if he were Perry White. It's hard work. I can't quite separate strong-dangerous-seductive me from Hate-The -Capitol-Make-Them-Pay me.

"No. Say it nicely." Oliver growls as I spit out an answer to 'what do you want to be when you grow up'. I said 'Hopefully still Alive' which didn't quite answer the question.

I snap, sick of simpering and flirting over these superficial questions. I grab for a small glass vase on the side table and lob it at Oliver's head. He ducks dramatically. "Are you crazy, you could hurt someone."

"That's the general idea!" I shoot back. We end up glaring at each, panting hard, before he just smiles and kisses me tenderly.

"You should save that expression for the Arena, oh if looks could kill." He says when we pull away. I resist wiping his kiss of my lips and settle for giving him a dramatic pout. "Look, forget about all of this. Just tell me about yourself. Like I'm meeting you for the first time. We're at a party and I've come up to talk to you. I want to know about your interests, your family, your time here in the Capitol."

I roll my eyes before getting into character. I try to do what he says. I tell him about the beach, my work on the boats, I talk about how much I "love" the Capitol, my dresses, my Oliver and after a moment's deliberation, Megan. "I love her so much."

"And what did you tell her, when she came to say goodbye?"

"I told her I would come back to her. That I would win the Games and go home to her."

Oliver kisses my hand. "And I'm one hundred percent in love with you."

I kiss him on the lips, tomorrow looming over us like a bird of prey. I can't commit to the kiss too deeply because Faora is calling me. I have to go get ready for the interviews. Oliver squeezes my hand tightly and lets me go. I follow Faora to my room and my prep team descend. They polish my body and then cover me in a blue and silver glitter so I sparkle softly in the light. They design my nails with tiny waves in blue and colour my eyelids the same. My lips are so red. I wear a pair of gold heeled shoes and then my dress. It's gorgeous. It's a strapless sheath of sapphire encrusted silk that hugs my body and stops mid-thigh. Then from the waist is a floaty overlay that is very sheer and falls to the floor, swirling about when I walk. The dress shifts in colours, sky blue, sea green, indigo and mauve, gold and light pink. It's beautiful and mesmerising. I look like the ocean at sunrise. I fight the tears that threaten to destroy my makeup. Faora gently styles my hair into big waves of scarlet, clipping in silver seashells and starfish that hang amidst the curls and bounce back the light.

She examines me and then smiles, dabbing a final dot of blush to my cheeks. "There. You are perfect." She says.

"Thank you."

I don't see Oliver as Faora and Eva come to whisk me downstairs, into a black windowed car and off to the main stage, set up specifically for tonight's events. Like in Training, we wait backstage in order of our District, for our moment to shine. No one talks or makes eye contact. Emil is standing in line behind me but I don't acknowledge him. Our time in the Arena starts from this moment. I watch as Lana is called first, she wears a black dress with precious gems glittering on the bodice. She's dark and sexy and mysterious in a way I could never be. She owns her sexuality, she moves like a panther. I feel like a kid, a child in a sparkly dress and I can only hope that I won't fall flat on my face when I walk across the stage. I really wish I could have a glass of water, my mouth is drying out with nerves.

Lex is called next, and he too is powerful and charismatic. The way he talks to the audience, in any other situation, even I might just do exactly what his voice told me to. He has the Capitol eating out of his hands. So does Clark, he grins and laughs and presents this gawky farmboy image, joking about the 'big city' of the Capitol. But I've seen him in Training, and whatever he's doing up there on stage is hiding the Tribute of steel underneath. Lois is like Lana, classy and deadly. She will have no trouble pulling sponsors tonight, not in her plunging red dress and smoky eyes.

District Three is called – Chloe goes in with her brains and her sweet smile, and the boy, David or Daniel or whatever, looks like he'll turn into one of those raging beast Tributes, the ones that go crazy during the Games and cause gruesome bloody deaths.

And then it's me. And everything goes white. I feel myself being moved with the help of one of the guards, up the two steps and onto the stage. Everything is bright and noisy – the crowd cheering for me in my sunrise dress. I force a smile, and try to search for Oliver's eyes in the crowd. I finally see him, standing up in the top box with mentors and stylists. I fix my eyes on him and let everything else fade away.

Afterwards they tell me I was charming and beautiful. I don't remember anything, I don't remember what I said or did. I don't remember Emil's interview afterwards. But I think it was alright. I was just so glad when I could be back in the apartment, out of my crippling shoes and into pyjamas. I take their word for it because all I do know is that when I smiled and twirled in my dress, when I answered questions and bared my heart for the audience, when two unknown men shouted – "I LOVE YOU TESS" and I replied with "I Love you both!", I did it all for Oliver.

He holds me in his arms as we have our final goodbyes. Eva gives both Emil and me a big hug, thanking us for being wonderful Tributes and promising to carry our torch when we're in the Arena. She actually seems genuine about it, which touches my heart. Then Faora hugs me and says she'll meet me in the launch room before the Games tomorrow.

They leave and Pete and Oliver give us final words of advice – stay smart, look for water, don't go into the bloodbath. Pete hugs us both and says "Ok… you two, bed. Try to sleep. You're going to need it."

I take Oliver's hand and bring him with me, closing my door behind us. We don't speak for a long time, holding each other close. I think I should talk, our precious seconds ticking away just like when I had to say goodbye to Megan. I want to thank him for everything he's done, for loving me, for being my hero. But the words are too big, too heavy and so I ask instead, "Please stay." I beg him, when he tells me I need to sleep. I sit on the edge of my bed, looking up into his pained face, his thumbs tracing circles on the back of my hand. "This could be the last time I ever see you again."

And I want him. I can feel it in my throat and the wings of my hips and the slickness between my legs. I pull his lips down to mine, running my hands through his hair.

"Tess." He breaks away.

"Please." I gasp, kissing him again and again, feeling fire take over in me, unbuttoning his shirt with my free hand. "Stay." I hold him tight to me, my face against his neck.

"I'll stay, of course I'll stay. Forever." He holds me under the sheets and I tuck my head against his shoulder. I barely sleep, it feels like my head had just touched the pillow when Eva was knocking on the door. I turned in Oliver's arms and watched him as he woke up, his eyelashes fluttering. I kissed him gently before sitting up and staring at the wall. I felt him move, kneeling behind me and putting his arms around me from behind. We sat like that, locked in embrace until Pete hammered his fist on the door.

I felt sick. I refused breakfast but Oliver made me eat some toast and drink some water before I had a quick shower and put on a thin shift dress, my Arena clothes would be waiting in the slaughterhouse for me, the pet name for the catacombs beneath the Arena. We go up to the roof, Oliver kisses me in the elevator, his eyes searching my face like he's trying to memorise me the way I am memorising him.

"Here." He said, taking something out of his pocket. It's Megan's bracelet, my token for the Arena that I had to hand over so it could be checked by Games officials. "They had to check it, see that it hadn't been tampered with to give you an advantage. Don't worry they didn't damage it. Although, I did make a temporary addition." He showed me the bracelet, which was unchanged except for a tiny charm attached, I examined it. An arrow head cut out of a dazzling green stone. "So you know I'll always be with you in the Arena."

I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly, unable to find words for how much this means to me. "Thank you. For… for everything."

"I love you." he said as he fastened the bracelet around my wrist. "Be safe, stay alive, come back to me."

I nod, my voice is shaky. "I'll be ok." I say, more for his benefit than mine. "I love you. God, I love you, Oliver." We get in one more kiss before the doors open, it send sparkles through my lips, his mouth is warm and his hands are strong on my back. For a moment, time froze, locking us into this kiss that held eternity and nothingness at the same time. Then we have to pull apart. The doors open and we step onto the roof. The sun is barely rising over the Capitol, shining on the flanks of the hovercraft that will take me to the Arena. Oliver and I hug tightly and say 'I love you' a hundred times before I walked away from him.

_To be continued..._

AN: Next chapter the Games begin! Feel free to leave me a review - tell me what you think of the fic, make a like a Career and predict who will survive the bloodbath, I always appreciate reviews. Y x

Links to the interview dresses are on my profile page.


	8. Let The 72nd Annual Hunger Games Begin

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 8 – Let The 72__nd__ Annual Hunger Games Begin_

Faora was waiting for me in the launch room when the guards walked through the many winding tunnels beneath the Arena. The windows of the hovercraft were blacked out so I have no idea what it looks like yet – it could be anything. They could make it an iceland again, or a desert, or an abandoned theme park or darkness. Feeling nervous again, I walked straight to Faora when the guards left me at the open door. The room was tiled in white and grey and there was the podium and glass tube where I would stand and rise up into the Arena on, a table with food and water glasses, and a rack where my clothes were hanging.

"Tess." She opened her arms and hugged me tightly, smoothing down my hair. I ate everything she put in front of me, despite not feeling hungry or even tasting it, just knowing that this could be my last meal. Then I drank more water and dressed in clothes for the Arena. Long trousers with a short sleeved shirt that went on over a blue tank top, lace up boots and a black, waterproof jacket that zipped up and had pockets. Megan's bracelet was secured around my wrist and I twisted it nervously as I waited. Faora was kind, pulling my hair gently into a high pony tail and securing it with a band, telling me that I will be ok while fussing over my bangs, which curled at the ends and wouldn't lie as nicely as she wanted. I want to respond but I'm sick with nerves and instead we sit on the bench in silence and wait. Faora puts her arm around my shoulders and lets me be.

"Thirty Seconds." Announces a crisp, female voice above me. I start trembling instantly; I could be dead, stone cold dead, in ten minutes or less. For all our plans and fighting words, there's still nothing between me and a Tribute who is faster, stronger or better with a knife.

"Come on, beautiful. You can win this thing." She says as we stand up and she leads me to the podium where I stand in the center of the metal plate. "Now don't forget, you have to stand there for sixty seconds, don't get off early. Be brave."

"Thank you. For all the beautiful dresses." I whisper. She puts her hand on my cheek, telling me to hold my head up high, my last bit of contact before the tube seals and the plate starts to rise. I am being lifted up, up, up into bright sunlight.

As my eyes adjust, I see that the Arena this year is beautiful. It almost throws me off balance since I hadn't expected it to be so… nice. There is a beach cove behind me, cliffs, a mountain and a dense looking forest of pine. The Cornucopia sits in a vast, empty field of deep green grass. As Oliver had said, the horn spilled over with weapons and food, the most valuable items in the mouth and various supplies spread out over the area in front, just waiting to be grabbed. I looked at the other Tributes waiting for the gong to sound. Emil was far on my right, the tiny District Twelve boy about six podiums away on my left. I spotted the Tributes from Two who wanted the Alliance. Lois, nods at me. We will have each others back in the bloodbath.

The gold numbers on a screen at the top of the Cornucopia count closer to zero and I scan the area and find what I want: There is a backpack with a sleeping bag attached forty yards in front of me, and another fifteen after that is the sword. I get my feet into position. I'm going for it. If death does get me, I hope it's quick. My heart pounds to the beat of the golden numbers. This is it.

A voice sounds from above us, "Ladies and Gentlemen! Let the Seventy-second Annual Hunger Games Begin!"

The gong sounds and I'm off, the wind tearing at my hair. I'm fast. I'm the fastest runner in my year and I've got the bag before I know it. I keep going, not slowing as I dive for the sword, a silver, double edged blade. It is not the long katana I am most used to, but right now any weapon will do. I'm the first one to the Cornucopia and I know I have to get out, but the other tributes have arrived too, and the blood is already flowing. I can't see Emil anywhere; everyone's matching jackets making it hard to identify the Tributes. I don't stop moving, hoping I can get past the Cornucopia onto the other side and into the woods.

Lois is locked in battle with the girl from Five, I linger long enough to watch Lois run a spear through her before I turn and run. If they're still alive I'll honour the alliance later. I round the Cornucopia, but fall back to avoid a knife thrown by District One's girl. She hurls another that misses me by inches. As I have to change direction, I think to grab the fallen knives. Extra weapons cannot be a bad thing here, and this thought proved right when I have to use one against the boy from Eight. The knife hits its mark in his throat and I tear past him as he falls down. Dead.

Tributes fall to the ground around me, several clear out with supplies. I dodge when the girl from Seven throws an axe and it thuds into the side of the Cornucopia, but I hold onto my knife because already she's abandoned me as a target and is running away. Two boys grapple for a backpack. A girl is stabbed on my left, the boy Tribute who murdered her hacking in with another blow for good measure. I see a breakthrough while Lois is hastily looking over a backpack. I run as fast as can to her side, grab her by the arm and yank her after me, bag in tow. She pulls me back in time to avoid a spear that sails in front of us and lands in the body of a blond boy.

"Come on!" I shout over the static in my ears and together we race away from the Cornucopia. I hear her shout something and Clark and Chloe, armed with several weapons and a heavy looking pack, join us. We make it into the woods. I would have preferred the beach because it is territory that I know and understand, but the trees give better cover and I am not risking the bloodbath again just to get to the beach. We run as far as we can, the light darkening through the thick canopy of branches, the sounds of the battle long gone. The worst is over and I'm alive. We're alive. We stop when we find a stream, washing away the blood and sweat with the cool water and quenching our thirst.

"Are you all ok?" I ask. I hadn't noticed it before, but one of the knives District One threw at me had grazed the back of my hand. It was a shallow slice, but infection can kill me in days. I washed it gently when a parachute suddenly dropped down and I caught it in my palms. I grin at the tube of antiseptic cream. Oliver. I feel very lucky to have sponsors this early in the game and I cover my wound with some of the salve. The other three had cuts and scratches from their fights and I clean and dress their wounds. Having determined that none of us would drop dead, we spread out our stuff and sat down. Clark's backpack has cheese sandwiches in it. I think the Gamemakers are hilarious, cheese-fucking-sandwiches, but I'm hungry again and I won't refuse a meal.

"You were good with the snares. In training." Lois says to me tersely. I think she's jealous that I got the first parachute, not her. "You should make one and catch rabbits or something. We'll want something for dinner."

I agree that we will need more food and she helps me set a few snares around our camp area, so I guess Lois doesn't resent me that much. She didn't try to kill me, at least. The woods are beautiful. They smell so intensely of pine and the birds above sing and chirp. It's as we are securing the last knot that the first cannon sounds. We stop and listen, counting to ten. We will see the faces in the sky tonight and know who each cannon belongs to. I hope that Emil is not among them, or the boy from Twelve.

We return to the camp and organise packs and weapons to keep our hands busy. In my bag is some food that will last about three days, a water bottle, a pair of gloves which could be handy for cold nights, and some matches.

My mind keeps flicking through the events at the Cornucopia. The boy I threw the knife at, he must be among the dead surely, I saw the blood as he collapsed. I killed someone. I didn't even blink. I put my hands in the water of the stream and clean the dirt stuck under my nails away. I left them painted with waves and examine the polish work as we wait, recuperate. I hear one of the snares snap and go to investigate. I come back proudly with a rabbit. It will be a thin meal with 4 of us. My pack has crackers, dried fruit and some preserved meat. Ditto for Chloe's pack. We decide against eating it all immediately, the Games do go on for a few weeks so it would be stupid to waste everything now. Instead Chloe finds some tubers she identifies as edible and they are kind of similar to potatoes.

We light a fire because the hazy, setting sun will mask most of the smoke and we clean and roast the rabbit and tubers. Lois finally gets her parachute, bread rolls from District Two, which she shares with us. It is delicious and filling. As the sky darkens we put out the flames, sitting close to the embers for warmth. I'm glad I picked the sleeping bag because the nights here are bound to be cold. The anthem plays and the sky above fills with the Panem emblem. Then there are the faces:

The boy from Three. Both from districts Five and Six. The girl from Seven who's axe I dodged. The boy from Eight, the one I threw the knife at. Both tributes from District Nine. The girl from Twelve

Emil was still alive, I breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at Lois and Clark. The bloodlust in their eyes made me want to vomit. In District Two it is a huge honour to win the Games, and I wonder if these two might be a little unhinged. They are discussing their kills with glee. I chew on the rabbit leg bone so as to not join their conversation. Chloe is awfully quiet and when I look at her she has tears streaming down her face. I drop the bone, wipe the grease on my pant leg and scoot over to her.

"Hey, you alright?" I ask. She looks at me with tearful hazel eyes. "I'm sorry. About the boy form your district." I say gently and she slowly accepts my extended arm and I hug her.

"He was… he was nice to me. On the train, he gave me chocolate." She is rambling into my shoulder. Lois rolls her eyes as she watches us and I hold her gaze steadily until she looks away. I comfort Chloe until she has herself under control and wipes at her eyes. "I barely knew him." She sighed, "but it's so unfair."

The nine other deaths were unfair too, but I don't say this. I know I would be in the same position as Chloe if it was Emil's face in the sky tonight.

"So." Clark looked at us, "I think we should try to find District One and team up with them."

The thought makes me uneasy. I can't help but think that being anywhere near that power couple would get us all murdered in our sleep. I say as much and Chloe agrees with me. After a moment's thought, Lois takes our side too.

"Too risky." She says, "We'd be better to track them and kill them before it gets too far in."

"They'll probably be near the Cornucopia." Chloe muses, "with the food…" she trails off and I guess she's thinking about the boy again.

I clear my throat, "It's getting dark and we don't have torches." I say, "we should probably take turns to keep watch and before sunrise tomorrow, start the hunt." I don't like the idea of trawling through the forest picking off our opponents, but at least it is a plan. Everyone seems ok with the idea and we organise ourselves for sleep. I hold my knife close to my chest as I get into my sleeping bag and sit up to take the first watch. My backpack is organised so if anything happens I can grab it and run. I stare up through the trees to the stars. I wonder if they are real or just a part of the Games, constructed by Gamemakers in their red robes in a clinical control room somewhere in the Capitol. I search and search and then I find it, the evening star that burns brightly over District Four.

"What are you thinking?" Chloe asks me. She's dragged her sleeping bag over and leans towards me on her side. I point at the star.

"The Evening Star, we can see it in District Four." I explain, "It's just… nice, to know that no matter where you are, you can always find something that points to home."

Chloe sighs, "We see that star in my district too. On clear nights you can get the best view from the watchtower." She then explains about constellations, pointing out a few interesting ones and their mythology to me. Clark and Lois lie across from us. Though the shadows are deep, I can see they are curled up together as they do not have sleeping bags like Chloe and I. In the silence, I sense she has fallen asleep. I watch the stars, the unchanging darkness around us but after four hours I have to give in to the exhaustion. I wake Chloe up and we swap places. I snuggle down into my bag, holding my knife in one hand and Oliver's charm in the other, hoping that Megan was alright and that her dreams were peaceful. I slept.

_To Be Continued..._

**The Fallen**

Davis Bloom, District Three

Milton Fine, District Five

Zatanna Zatara, District Five

Arthur Curry, District Six

Mera Waters, District Six

Diana Prince, District Seven

Jimmy Olsen, District Eight

Hal Jordan, District Nine

Kara Kent, District Nine

Courtney Whitmoore, District Twelve


	9. Darkness

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

This chapter is rated strong T for violence...

* * *

_Chapter 9 – Darkness_

_BOOM!_

We are all jarred awake by the sound of the canon. I woke clutching my knife and holding in a scream, scrambling out of the sleeping bag. The other three were waking up with surprised cries as well, which makes me think Lois fell asleep on her watch. Her messy hair and sleep filled eyes are major giveaways.

"Who was it?" Lois asks.

"Like I have any idea!" I snap back, "Get your stuff together. You were meant to wake us before sunrise, you idiot." I'm angry now. Lois' eyes darken and she takes a step towards me. I shift my feet instinctively, so I am balanced to throw the knife right between her eyes.

Chloe steps in between us. "We should just clear out." She says in her small voice. I wonder if I can throw the knife over her head, she's so short I might be able to still hit Lois. "Whoever killed them could be coming our way."

She's right, and Lois turns away so I lower my hand. I roll up my sleeping bag and clip it into its pouch, swing my bag on my back and pick up the sword, twirling it around my hand impatiently. I wait while Lois and Clark organise themselves and then we have to debate on the direction we walk in. We decide that starting at the Cornucopia is the best idea. Even if we don't find the Tributes, we can see if there is any food and supplies left for us. We take a zig-zagging path through the trees so as to not be easy targets. I can walk quietly, Lois and Chloe are passable, but Clark is crashing about like an idiot.

"Stop it!" Lois eventually snaps at him, "You are so uncoordinated, I bet every Tribute can hear us!"

If I thought Clark's footsteps were bad, his and Lois' bickering is worse. Maybe they'll just take each other out, right here and now and then I won't have to worry about killing them. Chloe and I roll our eyes and walk on ahead. We hide in the thinning trees and observe the Cornucopia, determine the coast is clear and set out towards it.

Hovercrafts have already taken the bodies away, but the now dry blood still stains the grass deep reddish brown. We pick over the remains of the golden horn of plenty, taking more food and adjusting our weapons. From the overturned barrels and packs, we weren't the only ones. I'm betting District One is still somewhere nearby.

I'm happy with my sword but I do take two full water bottles, food, apples and extra throwing knives, in case I get a clear shot at Lois again. She was flipping her dark hair and snuggling up to Clark while they chose their items from the bounty, clearly having made up from their spat in the forest. I miss Oliver deeply, wanting to be curled up in his arms, watching the Games from the relative safety of our living room. I look up at the sky, brilliant blue with its blazing sun, wondering if I'll get another parachute soon. I don't want for anything, but it would be nice to know Oliver cared about me. I shake my head, I _know_ he cares about me, the charm on my bracelet is reminder enough. We're only one day in, the betting is still high so people are probably still in shock that I made it out of the bloodbath alive or something like that.

The others are satisfied with their newly acquired supplies and we decide that mapping out the Arena would be the best way to start, so that we can find the right water sources and at the very least, keep moving so we're not easy targets. We don't talk about weapons. Even though I watch as Clark takes a spear and Lois twirls knives around her fingers and Chloe shakily holds a sword. She hadn't been very confident in Training, but I'll be damned if I'm giving her any pointers on how to use it.

All of my nerves and anxiety from yesterday have died down inside me to be a lump in my stomach. I'm still on edge, anticipating an attack at any second, but I definitely feel calmer, more in control. I survived the Bloodbath, I'm making an Alliance work. And if we happen to run into other tributes on the way… well, I'm not thrilled with the prospect, but I know they won't stand a chance against us.

Since we have already been in the woods, we decide to go towards the beach. I'm not sure about the Gamemakers' plans for this Arena. Some years they have been divided up into areas triggered for attack – mutts, avalanches, fissures in the Earth swallowing up Tributes. I'm going to hazard a guess and say to stay out of the water. There are a lot of dangerous creatures in the deep. Beautiful, but dangerous.

Or maybe I _should_ suggest that Clark and Lois go for a dip. I imagine watching them be eaten by sharks while I sit on the beach, toasting bread over the fire, the sparkling water turning red. Or maybe they would drown in the shallows, I have no idea if swimming is a part of the Career curriculum in District Two. I know they don't have a beach like my district. They say drowning is peaceful but I disagree. My father drowned, when a storm hit the coast line the year I was nine. I don't ever forget that the beautiful water could turn deadly with a second's notice, ripping away what you love in the same way the Capitol does.

I shake out of it and we walk on, seeing no other tributes. But we do see rabbits and pheasants, two clear pools of water near the cliffs. Since we are most likely on camera, I keep my emotions in check and even laugh and tell Chloe some District Four jokes that go way over her head so that the sponsors will not worry about me breaking down, going crazy or, as Eva put it, being a waste of money. I am trying so hard to project the intelligent, seductive, deadly girl that Oliver had created for my interviews that when I see my face reflected in the crystal clear surface of a pond, I don't recognise myself.

We wait up for the anthem to play and the face of District 11's girl, Dinah Lance, shines above us. She is the only death for today and solves the mystery of whose cannon we heard this morning.

"Well that was lovely." Chloe says sulkily. I stand up, needing to stretch my legs. It's still light enough, the setting sun painting the sky in blood and gold and blue. Even though I know it's not real, just another fabrication of the Capitol's, it takes my breath away.

"I'll check our snare." I say, taking my sword and pack. I'm not risking leaving my stuff behind, lest they raid my supplies and clear off, or I get stuck in the woods and can't return for the evening. No one offers to come with me on the journey, so I go alone, much happier than if I had to put up with anyone's company. The woods are lovely in the twilight with animals starting to come out, birds settling down for the night. An owl hoots softly and its mate replies with a warble. I feel oddly peaceful as I approach our snare and put down my bag and sword so I can examine it. It's been set off, but nothing is caught in the wire. Disappointed, I stand up and freeze when I hear a branch snap under foot. I turn slowly, the boy from District Eleven, Regan, steps through the trees, holding a knife. His eyes gleam and it's awful to see how quickly humanity disappears in these Games. It's carte blanche to murder innocent children.

"Hello. Pleasant evening, isn't it?" I say silkily, playing this up for the cameras because I'm certain they are riveted on us now. I shuffle slowly as he replies with 'just peachy', trying to get as close to my sword as I can. "How's your time here going? Operating alone? Why not join our alliance?" I say.

He smirks, "Frankly, I'd rather shovel cow dung."

Well, if that's the way he wants to play. I'm still too far away from my sword but I figure I'll just have to survive without it as he springs towards me. He's a heavy, solid boy and he throws me into a tree like I'm a ragdoll. I hit the ground, eating dirt and skinning my chin. I scramble to my knees, looking for options, my heart thudding with adrenaline.

"Don't worry. I'll give them a good show for your death." He says coldly, "make sure the Capitol will have some highlights." I don't want to die. In Training everything was so clear cut, but here, so close to being killed that I can taste death in my mouth… I just don't want to die. I guess it is fight for my life now, think about it later.

I grab a rock, it's a decent sized one and I whirl around, smashing it into his face. He staggers, dropping to the ground. I can see the dent in his skull and know that I've done more damage than I anticipated. I let go of the rock and lash out with my boot, feeling his nose shatter under the force. Then his jaw. I lose it. My mind clouds over and it's like I'm watching this all from above, the blood flying up into my face as I kick him over and over. The cannon sounds but I don't hear it, I don't stop. All the anger, the rage at the Games and the Capitol, the betrayal, it all spills out of me with no control.

I stop. I take deep, shaking breaths, looking down at what I've done. I feel like ice and I step away, losing my balance and landing hard on my ass. What have I done? I reach up and with a hand that is surprisingly steady, I wipe the blood off my lips.

"Move, Tess." I tell myself, scrambling away from his on my knees and grabbing my sword, in case another Tribute is nearby, waiting for me in my weakened state. I have to move, so that the body can be collected. I have to get away from the wreck of the boy in front of me. I take Regan's pack as well and walk back to camp in a haze, barely understanding where I am going. Just putting one foot in front of the other.

"What the hell happened?!" Chloe shrieked when she saw me. I don't speak, grabbing my water bottle and emptying it over my face, scrubbing off the blood. Lois and Clark watch me with interest.

"We heard the cannon. Who was it?"

"The boy from Eleven." I tell them, trying to get my breathing under control. Lois and Clark whoop and hug each other.

"Well done, Four." She says and goes back to throwing knives at the tree. I want to throw a knife at her, but if I do, Clark will probably kill me before I can blink. I refrain and sit down. Suddenly my body is shaking, the adrenaline stinging my blood. I drink water but refuse the food Chloe offers.

So I had killed another Tribute. This is the second, because I know that the boy at the Cornucopia was my kill too. I stared at my hands, unsure of what to think. I know the Cameras are probably on us right now, so I try to keep the hysteria to myself. I killed him. But he was going to kill me. It was all I could do. These are the Hunger Games after all; no one is crowned for showing mercy. And I know now that if I am going to survive then this is what I have to become.

"Come on," Called Clark, he had used his undershirt to wrap around several large sticks to fashion them into torches. "We should go find the other Tributes."

I nodded and stood up, Chloe was watching me intently while I grabbed my bag and picked up my sword. With a smile I went to stand beside Clark, he dipped the end of the stick into the fire and gave me the flaming torch, the heat radiating down the side of my face.

"So what are we waiting for?" I asked, and gave in to the darkness.

_To Be Continued…_

**The Fallen**

Regan Matthews, District Eleven

Dinah Lance, District Eleven


	10. Thread

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

A big thanks to all the anonymous reviewers!

* * *

_Chapter 10 - Thread_

Two Tribute's faces will fill the sky tonight. We don't know who killed the girl, she wasn't one of ours although we did see the hovercraft come in and collect her wraith thin body off the beach. But we were the ones to chase Carter Hall up onto the cliff, where Lois and Clark wasted no time in throwing him over to his death. We don't bother to hide the fire too much, as we sit around roasting the rabbits that were trapped in the snares we left set near the Cornucopia. We must be about six days into the Games now and we alternate between hunting the Tributes and eating. We have been keeping close to the beach, so I've been able to clean my body and wash my clothes, which somehow manage to get so dirty so quickly here. I wish I had soap and a toothbrush, but I've had to make do with sand and seaweed to scrub off the blood and dirt that covers my skin, and apples to wash the bitter taste out of my mouth. Today I washed my hair. I wish Oliver would send me something like shampoo or towels since drying it in front of the fire does not help with the bird's nest of knots it is working itself into.

I'm fighting fatigue and listening to Chloe chatter about something random when there is a faint beeping that draws our attention and a parachute is floating down towards us. "Whose is it?" asks Clark. It lands close to me and has the number 4 inscribed on the top. I have a sponsor! Please contain soap.

I open the container and find bread, my beautiful District Four bread. "Look!" I hold up the decent sized loaf with a grin. Back home this would cost me about four days of work on Mr Queen's boat, hauling tuna around. Then I think… I am not particularly hungry. I have plenty of food in my pack and we Careers are still living off the remains of the Cornucopia's contents, so why would Oliver choose this moment to send me bread? I wrap it up in the silky parachute material, telling the group I'll save it for later. I think this is Oliver's way of reminding me about Emil. That while I'm playing house with these Careers and Chloe, my District partner is somewhere nearby. This alliance must end soon. I scowl inwardly. Emil made it pretty clear before the Games began that he no longer cared about our Alliance. I debate whether or not to find him. But he's Emil - the boy who pulled my pigtails in school, the boy who gave me my first, tentative kiss behind the apothecary shop his parent's ran in the town. Emil is from home, and whether he wants to see me or not, he's still the safest ally a girl can have here.

I guess it had to end sooner or later anyway, the other Careers are getting pretty restless and this year has really burnt through Tributes. With ten left in the Game, I should just get out here, find Emil and find somewhere to hide while the major fights play out and then come back for the final few kills. It's vicious, but it's survival.

While we wait for the food to cook, we chat, even though I don't really want to know much about the others, I don't want it to be too hard to kill them. I find out that Lois has a younger sister a year or two older than Megan, and that her father is a general in the Capitol Peacekeeper force, and her mother died when she was young.

"I just… I love Lucy, I'd do anything to protect her." Lois whispers to me as we sit side by side, warming our hands over the fire. I find we actually share a small smile. We're not that different after all. And I decide that I will tell her about Megan, because if I've learnt anything from watching the Games my whole life, the audience loves nothing more than the friendship between Tributes. We're on live television after all.

"I have a sister, Megan. I'd do the same." I tell her. Her eyes search mine and I shrug, not wanting to read too much into our heart-to-heart. "You have a bug in your hair, come here." I frown, snatching the cobalt blue beetle out of her raven hair. Lois laughed, taking it out of my hands.

"Think fast, Chloe!" she grinned evilly, hurling the insect at the blond who shrieked and tried to shake it off. We all laugh. "Oh lighten up, it was hilarious." Lois scoffs at her when she's done flapping her arms wildly.

Clark puts his arm around Chloe. "Don't be a bitch, Lois."

"What are you gonna do about it, Smallville?"

I blink, "_Why_ does she call you Smallville?"

Clark scowled. "It's a long story. She thinks she's being clever."

Fortunately, before they can start arguing again, the rabbits are cooked and we divide them up and eat. I will wait until everyone is asleep and then I'll run for it. But if they are all asleep, I could just cut their throats and be less three opponents. However when I actually think that plan through, I know that whoever I kill first, their cannon will wake up the others and I'll have two weapons in me before I could say "Happy Hunger Games". Scowling into the fire I weigh up the odds of my survival. But it's completely useless, because the next thing I know everything is in chaos as the Tributes from District One launch into the middle of our camp.

Lois and Clark dive for weapons, I've kept my sword close at hand so I jump up, swinging it at Lex, who has to fall back from an attack by little Chloe. I see my opportunity to break the alliance and turn heel and run, snatching up my backpack as I go and pulling it on as I sprint for the dark edge of the forest. I'm barely fifty yards away when I hear a shout and then something belts into the side of my head. I hit the ground, dazed. I turn in time to see the girl, Lana, jump at me with a knife. We collide and scramble in the dirt, punching and biting. I'm fighting for my life, trying to hurt her and dodge her knife at the same time. She's caught my wrist, she's so much stronger than me and she spins me around like I'm a ragdoll. She cheers viciously when I crash into the ground again and land awkwardly on my backpack which almost knocks all the breath out of me.

In the firelight I can see the others battle. A cannon sounds but I don't know who it belongs to. Lana threw herself at me and I barely had time to force her hand upwards so that the knife wouldn't go straight through my skull. She trapped me by the throat and there was no way out, I was going to die. I was going to die.

Then I was free, gasping down enormous breaths of air while a huge figure pulled Lana off me, and dropped her to the ground with the sharp crack of a broken neck.

The boy who saved me pulled me to my feet and I stumbled alongside him, I can hear Lex shouting for Lana, but I know there's no point, she's gone.

We don't stop running. Leaves and branches tear at my face and my clothes as we pelt through the forest. I think it's the boy from Seven, Zod with the ice blue eyes, but it's so dark I'm slightly unsure. I just keep hold of his hand until we are both unable to run any further and we stop, gasping for breath. It is District Seven,"I don't think we've been formally introduced." he smiled at me, extending a long fingered hand to shake. "Zod Major."

"Tess Mercer," I take his hand, holding a shaky laugh at his formal tones.

"We'd last longer with two of us." He says.

"I agree." I reply and slowly let go of his hand. I take a long drink of water from the bottle in my bag and wipe my lips with the back of my hand, watching him carefully. "Thank you. District One almost had me."

He shrugged, "I'm sure you would have found a way out if I hadn't been there." His voice could cut glass, it sends a shiver through my body. It's not the warm shivers Oliver could create in me, no, this is ice cold and I realise that I've just made the most dangerous alliance of the Games so far. I was holding fire in my hands.

And I loved it.

Zod makes me feel clever about my survival so far. He congratulates me on my kills, shares his own bloodbath murders as we eat a small meal of preserved meat and crackers, not wanting to light the fire and alert the other Tributes to our location. I had lost my sword in the fight with Lana which unsettled me deeply. I'm a Career; I won't survive without a decent weapon. Luckily I had the wherewithal to put my bag on my back before I broke the alliance, so I still had food, water, my sleeping bag and my throwing knives. Zod smiles at me in a way that makes me feel less guilty, less terrified, less light and so much darker.

Lana Lang and Chloe Sullivan join Alicia Baker and Carter Hall in the sky as Zod and I lie side by side in our separate sleeping bags. The air around us is arctic though, so we huddle quite close. I've never been this close to anyone but Oliver, and Megan when she crawls into my bed after a nightmare. I hope he's not going crazy over this. I think about poor, sweet Chloe, wondering which of the former Alliance cast her death blow or if it was the District One tributes. Tribute, I think, now that only Lex is left.. My body is so tired all of a sudden. I move closer to Zod and his arms go around my back, admitting me to lean my forehead against his warm chest.

We both sleep with knives clutched in our hands.

_To Be Continued..._

**The Fallen**

Lana Lang, District One

Chloe Sullivan, District Three

Alicia Baker, District Eight

Carter Hall, District Ten

AN: Please review, let me know what you think of the story so far, they are always appreciated xoxo


	11. Touching The Sun

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 11– Touching the Sun_

I wake slowly out of a dream, wondering for a moment where I was and why I was lying on a forest floor with a man who isn't Oliver. Then it all rushed back and I closed my eyes with a heavy sigh. The Hunger Games, I remember now. Zod was still asleep beside me and I won't be getting back to sleep any time soon. I don't really want to watch him sleep, that would be too creepy, I slipped out of my sleeping bag and walked as far away as I dared for a moment of privacy. He was up when I returned and I noticed a parachute attached to a silver thermos in his lap.

"You got something." I said brightly, sitting cross legged on my sleeping bag opposite him.

"Coffee." He grinned at me and poured me some in the lid while he drank straight from the thermos. I melted at the hot drink.

"Heaven!" I sighed as it warmed my bones. "I was so cold last night."

Zod looked at me, "Next time you should hop in my sleeping bag. Be warmer."

I laugh and fiddle with Megan's bracelet to cover my nervousness. Maybe I'm reading too much into his words, but there is a suggestive gleam in his eyes. There's only one kind of fire I want to play with in this Arena, and _that_ is not it! I give him a sly smile in case the cameras are on us.

"Oh, but I forgot about your loverboy." He sighs sarcastically.

"Yes. Rule number one of the Hunger Games, don't anger your mentor."

"So he's a jealous type?"

Ugh, it's too early in the morning for this. I think the cameras might be focusing on us - there's nothing the Capitol likes more than drama and angst, and maybe if I play it right then someone will sponsor me. I kneel and put my lips close to his, peering up at him through my lashes. "I don't know. Are you?"

I draw back before he can respond and stand up. I shouldn't do this. Not to Oliver. I extend my hand to Zod and pull him to his feet. "Come on. What are we doing today?"

The day passed slowly as we moved in a hundred metre radius from our original camp, not seeing hide or hair of the other Tributes. I'm getting bored quickly, but can't shake the odd feeling like someone might be following us. Even though I scan the woods so hard my eyes hurt, I see no one and Zod doesn't either. After lunch we hear screams, but they are too far away to pinpoint the location. It's a little freaky and the stress of the Games is starting to weigh on my mind, sparking off a paranoia that has me running my fingers along the handles of my knives through the latter half of the afternoon.

I wonder what Oliver is doing right now. If he's watching me from the place he called the Games Headquarters, signing up sponsors. I hope he's not drinking again. He hasn't touched alcohol in the years we've been together, but everyone knew he was a heavy drinker the first six months after his victory. Jamie thought I was crazy for falling in love with him but I couldn't help it. No matter how complicated everything was, I knew I loved him and he loved me back. I could make him laugh and we would argue about stupid things and make up with kisses after, and Oliver never rushed me into anything… but he was there when my mother died, and he let Megan and I live with him when the only other option was starvation. We held each other through nightmares, and then his lips would comfort me too. I miss him so much now, feeling something beyond love and deeper than homesickness.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, drawing me out of my reverie. I've got an uncomfortable feeling that someone is following us as we walk further into the woods. It is still so beautiful; the leaves are bright shades of emerald and jade green, the floor of pine needles crunch gently underfoot. You can't deny that there is some real artistry in the Games. And then there are roses. I hadn't expected to see anything like them, but as I step into a clear space there they are. Crawling over tree trunks and bushes are thousands of glorious roses. Yellow, scarlet and snow white. I spin in a circle, watching the colours blur as I laugh. "Zod, look at this!" I say. There's no response. "Zod?" I call again, looking for him.

My breath comes sharply as I realise I am alone. Totally alone in the woods without a clue as to which way to go now. "Zod?" I say again, a note of panic in my voice. I try to think rationally, if he was dead I would have heard the cannon. Unless this was an ambush. I try to retrace my steps, keeping my tread light and my knives close at hand.

"Gotcha!"

I scream as strong hands grab me around my waist and lift me into the air, spinning me in a dizzy a circle.

"ZOD YOU BASTARD!" I slap him hard when he set me back on my feet and I stopped seeing patches of grey. He snickers at me and I feel close to sobbing, out of part fright, part anger and part relief.

He tilts my chin up. "Sorry. I was just having some fun. These Games wouldn't get you on a physical level. I thought a more… emotional angle might –"

In a rage I punched him hard in the jaw. This is what I realised about the dangerous alliance: he's still working hard to unsettle me, scare me and ultimately he will kill me. He wasn't knocked off balance, although I did split the skin of his lower lip. He retaliates swiftly and has me by the throat, lifting me off my feet with a smile on his bloody lips. However, his grip is not tight enough to cut off my air so I snatch the knife out of my belt and hold it to his throat, digging in the point a millimetre so he knows I'm nothing to be messed with. We crash to our knees, breathing hard. He gives me a smile that could freeze Hell.

"In any alliance, one person stands, while the other kneels." I tell him as I stand up, his gaze following me, "I won't be forced down again."

He pants slightly, still smiling at me from his position on the ground. "I wouldn't want you to be."

In a suddenly reckless move, I give him a quick kiss on the lips and dance away before he can catch me. "Let's go hunt some Tributes?" I suggest and make sure he walks beside me where I can keep an eye on him. I don't think I like roses anymore. We find the path we were originally on and walk on. I had actually forgotten all about parachutes and sponsors until a faint beeping made us stop in our tracks. A silver parachute was floating down, landing at my feet. I gasped – a sword. And not just any sword, but the fine, slightly curved Samurai blade I loved. I dropped to my knees, feeling the balance as I unwrapped it from the fastenings connecting it to the parachute, and then slid it out of its black casing. It was weighted perfectly. I can only imagine how expensive this gift, this deadly weapon, would cost a sponsor.

Zod whistled. "Lucky you."

"I lost my original one the other night." I explained without looking at him, bringing up the katana and slashing it through the air. I smiled brightly for the cameras and secured the scabbard over my shoulder but kept a hold of the sword, cutting down the undergrowth and vines as I got used to the feel of it.

As the sun dips lower in the sky we take a break and put our packs down. Surprisingly, Zod has a small crossbow in his bag and we take turns trying to kill something of the bird variety for dinner. We get nothing. We are both spectacularly bad shots with the crossbow and I'm starting to get really hungry.

"Let's just leave it." I said, sitting down in a huff, my stomach rumbling. I opened my bag to assess what was edible. Despite my hunger, I know better than to eat everything, leaving dried meat, bread and packets of food that I found in the Cornucopia, and taking a small packet of sausages and a few apples for now. I pull them out and with twilight falling fast, we light a fire and wait for it to grow hot enough to cook with. I stand with my back to Zod, drinking water when he pokes me in the hip. I glare at him, still angry at his idea of a joke and irrationally angry that I'm stuck with him, that I have a dwindling supply of food, that dinner won't be nice tonight, and to top it off, Oliver is a million miles from me. Maybe I should kill Zod now…

We use the arrows from his crossbow as skewers for the sausages and apples, the smoky smell of cooked meat making our mouths water, the roasted apples were sweet and delicious. We eat and sit in the fading light, not bothering with conversation. I was lost in thoughts of home and Oliver and Meg, when Zod suddenly stood up. My first thought went to attack, but then I realised he was holding out his hand.

"What?" I asked artlessly.

His lips curled, "Dance with me?" I eyed his hand before I took it and stood up. He pulled me close and we swayed in a slow circle as night fell around us. Zod spun me out under his arm and then back in, looping his arms around my waist. My skin felt electric. I haven't been this close to someone since the Games started and I feel myself relax just a little bit as we turned in the slow dark waltz, this dance of death. Emotions bloom, an ache for it to be Oliver dancing with me in the woods, not this boy from the Lumber District, burns in my chest. The Hunger Games wreak havoc on a person, emotions are intensified, stretched tight like a drum. These Alliances become too complicated, confused in my internal battle of morality.

Zod inched his lips towards mine and I let him press a soft kiss to my lips which I hesitate for a moment before retuning, deepening as fire sweeps across my lips and his tongue moves against mine. I run my hand through his hair. I want to forget it all so much, where we are, what I've done to survive this far. I let it fade as much as I dared, losing myself in this kiss that bruised my lips and tasted faintly of blood and ashes. I miss Oliver so much. Oliver! I pull back sharply.

"I can't. I'm sorry." I say Zod's eyes darkened, his grip on my arms tightening.

"Let me go." I said coldly.

"Oh come on, give us a kiss." He snarled, pulling me tight against him with a growl of rage. I shoved at his face, pushing him away. He refused to release me, so I kicked him hard in the stomach and we both fell to the ground. I got to my feet, while he rolled to the left and came up swinging wildly with the curved, silver blade.

I jumped a metre in the air, launching myself out of the way of Zod's sword. I dove for my own weapon, bringing the blade up in time to block his downward swipe that would have taken my face off if I hadn't been so quick.

I managed to get to my feet and fight, running on pure adrenaline, the blood pumping in my ears. He was bigger than me and stronger, but I was light and fast and he couldn't keep up with me in this dance. He was getting tired, I could use that to my advantage and I swiped my nails down his cheek, leaving four bloody gashes in their wake.

And then… then he kicked, but not at me, at the dying embers of the fire and the hot coal shot straight up into my face.

Pain. Everything on the left hand side of my face was blinding pain. I could hear screaming and realised it was my own when I hit the ground, my shaking hands covering my injury.

"Any last words, Four?" Zod demanded. I couldn't speak, I could even breathe. I waited for the death blow, my heart trying to break free of my chest.

I will not die like this. I won't. I feel my hand move of it's own accord as Zod stepped closer, willing every ounce of my strength to save myself. My numb fingers found my knife and I buried it in Zod's stomach, shoving his sword away from me, feeling pain slice through the palm of my left hand. I watched him cough up a mouthful of dark blood that dribbled down his shirt as he pitched forward. Dead.

_BOOM!_

Everything was going hazy, I had no idea what was going on, my face throbbing, eyes blurred up with tears and blood. Then I saw him, the tiny boy from District Twelve, walking towards me with a knife in his hands.

_ To Be Continued..._

**The Fallen**

Zod, District Seven

AN: Reviews are love!


	12. Alexander

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

_AN: Effie Trinket gets a brief mention in this chapter! She is one of my favourite characters from the Hunger Games series and I'm just pointing out that she's Suzanne Collins', not mine. Enjoy the new chapter and if you can spot the Katniss Everdeen reference, you get virtual cupcakes! Tell me in the comments xo  
_

* * *

_Chapter 12– Alexander_

I was alive.

The sunlight falling on my closed eyelids drew me out of my sleep. I was alive. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, looking up into the leafy canopy high above my head. The next thing I noticed was that the pain in my face was now just a dull ache. I slowly sat up, muscles protesting with pain, touching my hand, which was wrapped in bandages, to my face and feeling … leaves?

I looked around; I was lying under a small shelf of rock in a clearing surrounded by trees and nearby there was a pond. Suddenly, blazingly thirsty, I crawled over to it and breathed deep the clean scent of water and pond lilies. It was so beautiful, yet I know better than to just drink out of a pond, but it still takes considerable force of will to push myself away and find my bottle of clean water in my pack. I returned to the pond, using it as a mirror to look at my reflection.

The side of my face that had been burnt was covered in a protective cover of silver leaves. I slowly brushed them away and found underneath was a layer of pale cream. With my wet fingers I washed it away in patches. My skin was healed and shiny, baby pink and slightly puckered in scar tissue under my jaw and in my hairline. I turned my attention to my left hand, unwinding the bandage. The slice in my palm was just a thin line of scab now, and I flexed my hand gently. This was Capitol medicine, but how... then I remembered – District Twelve!

My face clean, I stood up and looked around for the little boy. There were packs by the rock where I had been sleeping, along with my sword, but the rest of the little clearing was empty. I tried to place myself, and hazarded a guess that I was less than a hundred metres from my former camp with Zod. I listened hard, trying to track where he could be hiding, and approached the shelf of rock. There he was, the tiny little Tribute, hiding on the other side.

I smiled at him. "Hello. It's ok I'm not going to hurt you."

"Hi." He said shyly. "I'm Alexander."

"Tess." I held my hand out to him. Slowly, he reached out and put his soft little hand in mine. His eyes were huge and blue. "Thank you. For saving me." I said. And there we were, unspoken Allies.

"It's ok. My sponsors sent me some burn cream, I was hurt earlier." He explained, showing me a healed scar on his stomach. It looked serious, the poor thing.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I have food, in my pack."

He looked at me, his eyes calculating. Then he nodded decisively and we sat down with our backs against the rock. I shared my food with him, ravenously hungry myself, and slowly he began to talk more and more, the colour coming back into his cheeks as he chowed down the bread roll and meat like a little wolf.

"So, how long was I asleep."

"Three days."

"Any… deaths?"

"Just the boy from Seven." I swallow dryly. I nodded vacantly, thinking about who was left: Lex, Clark and Lois. Emil. The girl from Ten. Alexander and myself. They'll be interviewing my friends and family back home since I've made it this far in the Games. I think about Megan and Jamie and my school friends, the camera crews in our house and Capitol journalists interviewing them all about me. I hope Jamie says something nice, and doesn't mention the night we all got incredibly drunk for her seventeenth birthday and I ended up in a green dress singing on the bar counter while men threw money at me. I bought Megan a new dress and colouring book with the cash, so we weren't really complaining. Even as I think this, I wonder how quickly time had flashed by between her birthday and now. Jamie had been singing, Oliver dragged me out of the bar and we went skinny dipping at the beach and danced on the sand until the sun rose. It feels like years since then.

I look down at Alexander, the faint shake of his hands. I think he's reacting to the shock of it all, if he had been following Zod and I all yesterday then he watched me murder a Tribute, he's been running for his life. "Are you alright?" I asked him gently. "I'm sorry that you had to see it. The boy from Seven."

He took a shaky breath and shook his head. I hope he doesn't fall apart on me, I have no idea what I should do. I think about Megan, and how she curls up against me after nightmares and asks me to tell her stories. "Come here." I pulled him against my side and hugged him gently, soothing him as he cried. "You've been so brave." I tell him.

I glare at the sky, at the cameras if they are on us now, at the Gamemakers who took all the innocence out of the world. Up until now I'd been playing the Hunger Games like they're meant to be – fighting for my life and playing to the cameras - but now I realise more than ever just how _wrong_ it all is. How deeply and horribly wrong everything about this is.

"Tell me about District Twelve." I asked, thinking that distracting him would be kindest. Alexander does, telling me about the coal mines, the meadow, the fence around the District. And in turn I tell him about District Four, the smell of salt water, the sand, the dances for the summer solstice. I feel my chest ache with homesickness. Alexander said he had a lot of brothers, but they were younger than him. I tell him about Megan and he smiles up at me, his defences going down as he leans into my side for warmth. Oh how I regret the times Megan I would fight – stupid, sisterly fights over things that weren't important – and I would threaten to send her to the Hunger Games if she didn't behave herself. She knew I was joking. But now I feel the sting of my words. I'd never wish this hell on anybody.

The light was fading towards night. I spread out the sleeping bag. Alexander, who was obviously no longer wary of me, fell asleep immediately. But I lay awake, watching the sky and thinking, missing home and Megan and Oliver. _I can't let this little boy die._ The thought strikes me with force. I can't see this kid, with his entire life in front of him, die. I try not to think about Oliver, and what he would say. My own will to live is taking this idea as a very harsh blow. I don't want to die, but I don't want Alexander to either, even more than my own survival. I look down at his sleeping face and brush a strawberry blond curl off his forehead. There can only be one winner. Should I play the game to the end, and the ensure that Alexander will be crowned? Should I leave it to chance?

I dozed, unable to really fall asleep, terrified that we will be ambushed by the other Tributes. Alexander slept soundly and the morning's sunrise was beautiful, the sky turning grey and gold and pink, trees above us still in dark relief against the lilac sky. We packed up our camp, filled our water bottles and moved on, keeping the cliff to our backs. I didn't really want to be out like this, but we couldn't stay in the one place. And we were running out of food with no sign of my sponsors stepping in. I showed Alexander how to set a trap for rabbits, and then how to weave a basket from reeds to catch fish, losing myself in the methodical task. It reminded me of home, leaning against Oliver's chest as he taught me new and intricate knots while repairing fishing nets. Alexander and I set the basket trap in the river and my heart broke at his enthusiasm when he caught his first fish. It was a good size so we wrapped it in Arrowhead leaves and set it on hot coals to bake and left the basket in the water to catch more for later. The place where we made our new camp was a small copse of trees near the water, ringed with tangled, thorny vines with bright berries on them. I reached for one when Alexander grabbed my hand.

"No!" he exclaimed. "These are bad ones!" I stepped back and he continued. "I've seen them in District Twelve, even the juice will kill you if it gets on your skin."

"Thanks for the warning." I say and he visibly relaxes, and goes back to poke at the cooking fish. I take the gloves out of my bag and slip them on, glad to finally have a use for them, then gently collect a handful of the berries and put them in my pocket. They could be useful, in an attack or for my own speedy death later, when it's just Alexander and me left. Although I still haven't reached a full decision on that, I don't want Alexander to die. The thought of it is unbearable. Selfish and selfless fight it out in the pit of my stomach. What if this was Megan? I think it would be right, to give him a chance. To make sure he's crowned and can go on with his life, enjoying all the riches and opportunities available to him as a Victor. This pure boy is more deserving of it then me.

We eat our fish, he tells me more about his life in Twelve, the things he likes and the games he plays with his friends. I'm sure the cameras are either on someone else, or blocking us out. Information about other Districts is very limited and travel between them is non-existent, unless you are an official, or on the Victory Tour for winning the Games. I hope Alexander will like the seaside when he visits my District.

As we chat I notice he has an intricate, sparkling brooch pinned to his shirt. It's a wreath of flowers in precious gemstones. I'm amazed at how he has this for his token, and ask him about it since I'm guessing it must be his mother's.

Alexander was quiet, plucking at the charm. "It's from my escort, Effie." He says. I try to put name to face, she was a bauble of a woman who wore a towering wig of blue curls, flitting about the Tribute Parade like a hummingbird. "She said she felt bad that I didn't have a token, and that I could have her brooch."

"Wow that's really nice of her." I mumbled, thinking that it was awful for his family to be so desperately poor they couldn't even afford to give him a token of home for the Arena. I guess in the face of my imminent death I am more aware of how lucky I was, living with Oliver, his victory money keeping Megan and I fed and clothed and in school. We even had luxuries like sweets and trinkets he would bring back from the Capitol to amuse Meg with. I was about to say something, to comfort Alexander who had gone into a sad silence, when I heard a branch break. We both freeze, I press my finger to my lips so Alexander will stay silent, and pick up my sword. I move soundlessly through the trees until I see the Tribute. His back is to me, crouched down in the undergrowth. With his dark hair I am not sure if it's Clark or Emil, so I sneak up beside him and press my sword to his throat.

"Don't kill me, Tess." He says and I drop the sword in shock.

"Emil!" I exclaim in joy and throw myself into his arms. He drops his spear and hugs me back fiercely, crushing my ribs but I don't care since I'm just so happy to have him back!

"It is you!" He looks haggard and exhausted and is sporting a magnificent black eye and a gash on his forehead. "What happened to your face?" he asked as I led him back to our little campsite.

I shook my head, my hand self-consciously going to cover the remaining pink skin and puckered scars. "The boy from Seven." Is all I can give in explanation. I swallow, "Emil, is it… is it awful?"

He shook his head, "Just a bit pink. I'm sure the Capitol will fix it for you." It stings me deeply.

"Yeah, maybe they will." I snap. He says it so bitterly. Does he know about Pete and Oliver wanting me to be the Tribute who would go home? Does he resent me for that? Is he planning to kill me when my guard is down?

"Come on, I didn't mean you should take it like that, Tess… I'm just…" He looks annoyed and upset at my anger towards him. "I'm just glad you're ok." He says.

"Right. Thanks. Sorry." I nod and lead him to our camp. "Alexander!" I say brightly to the boy when we emerge through the trees, "Look who it is! This is my District partner, Emil!"

Alexander is all shy again as he puts another fish onto the coals while Emil and I sat down to swap news. I cleaned his head wound, cleaning away infection and covering it with antiseptic. "That needs stitches or something, sit tight." I say. Emil shrugs while I search through the packs and find a first aid kit. I realise Alexander dragged Zod's pack here with us as well. I shake the thoughts away. "So, what have you been doing?"

"Mostly surviving. I'm not much of a fighter, you know. I've done what Pete said, keeping out of the way." He says as I find sutures and stick them to his forehead, trying to not visibly show my disgust at the blood and pus that leaks when I seal the wound as best I can.

"There. That should do it, but let me know if it hurts too much." I swiped a good amount of antiseptic over the top and washed my hands in the river. "How did you get the shiner then?"

"Ran in to the District Ten girl. Blond but vicious. I don't know if she's still alive though." He sighed. "I haven't heard any cannons recently, so I guess she's still in the game." We feed Emil the fish and he's so ravenous I have to laugh and tell him to chew slowly before he chokes. But I know the hunger he's battling through. "I know… Ihaventseenfoodforagesthisis sogood!" he said in a thick, blurry mouthful, making Alexander laugh.

"Have you got many parachutes?" I asked.

He shook his head from side to side as he swallowed. "Bread and some matches the other night. You?"

"Bread. I'm wondering how Oliver and Pete are doing. Haven't forgotten about us have you?" I directed at the sky, not wanting to tell Emil about the wonderful, expensive, sword, "we have three mouths to feed!"

And then, like magic, a parachute drops from the sky. I know this is Oliver's way of telling me I've finally made the right Alliance. We rush to the fallen goodies – a whole hamper full of food! With a whoop of joy Emil starts unpacking plates of still hot Capitol cooking. Alexander looks over the moon and being able to see the tiny boy have a substantial meal is the best moment in these past weeks. We ration and divide up the food that will not immediately spoil – the dried fruit, biscuits and preserves. We eat hot lamb chops and mashed potatoes and flavoursome carrots.

"Thank you Pete! Thank you Oliver!" we chorus, washing down the meal with orange juice. I'm glad we have it, because both Emil and Alexander look sick. Emil is more dramatic, his skin jaundice yellow like he hasn't had enough vitamins lately.

Full for the first time since the Games began, we make camp properly, unzipping the sleeping bag so it is one big sheet that can go over the three of us. I take first watch but Emil offers to stay up a little later with me. Alexander, exhausted from the good meal, falls asleep immediately between us.

"It's good to see you." Emil says. I hold his hand, lacing our fingers because I'm so desperate for human contact. His skin is searing against mine. "I've been worried."

"I've been worried about you too." I admit. "I'm sorry I messed up the Alliance. I barely got out of the Bloodbath and then roped in with the Careers from Two… I should have never agreed to it in the first place."

"It's ok." Says Emil, diplomatically. "Have you seen anyone else, aside from Alexander?" I shake my head and return the question. "Both from Two are still alive, they passed by my camp about a day and a half ago… I overheard them saying they had a run in with muttations."

"Pity they didn't have the decency to die." I remark, thinking that maybe they were the screams I heard the day I danced with Zod and paid dearly for it.

Emil regards me silently for a long time, the moonlight slanting over his face. A furrow appears in his brow. "You've changed." He says quietly. "This Arena, it's changing you. The Tess I know wouldn't ever talk about another human being like that."

I bristle at the remark and then force myself to calm down and not overreact. I have changed. This Arena has wrapped me up in darkness. I felt my heart grow colder as I regarded him indifferently in the half-light. "We don't have the luxury of being human here, do we, Emil?" I finally say. "I was going to play this to win." I can't lie, looking down at Alexander's sleeping face. "But then I saw that boy and… nothing that innocent should die. He just needs to be loved, not fighting for his life."

I'm in too deep. I choke up at the thought of Alexander being hurt, being killed, and turn my face away so Emil won't see the tears in my eyes. It's unbearable. Emil shook his head, "We're in the Hunger Games, Tess. We can't love."

"Now who's the one who has changed?" I say under my breath. "I have gone through so much darkness, Emil. After everything I've done…"

I can't tell him. I still can't be the girl who murders her district partner and I don't want to risk him attacking me over my plan to make Alexander the winner. It's a terrible thing to ask of him, our lives given in exchange for Alexander's. But I think it is the right thing to do. I hope that in time, Oliver will understand my decision. That he won't resent my betrayal for the rest of his life. I hope Megan will understand why I'm leaving her.

"I just don't want Alexander to be alone in these Games."

"You don't have to be alone either, Tess." Emil said after a heavy pause, his hazel eyes meeting mine.

I can't even speak, tears overwhelming me and I lean over and hug him. I feel his tears on my neck as mine fall on his shoulder. I'm so exhausted, but I'm not alone in this terrible, tragic place.

_To Be Continued..._


	13. Broken Sunlight

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

AN: It's another violent chapter with a Strong T rating.

Also! I asked if anyone could spot the Katniss Everdeen reference in chapter 12, sadly no one did - "we wrapped it (the fish) in Arrowhead leaves and set it on hot coals to bake" - Arrowhead, _Sagittaria_, is also known as Katniss, and is a waterbased plant with arrow shaped leaves, white flowers with three petals and edible roots.

* * *

_Chapter 13 – Broken Sunlight_

The next morning we try to come up with a plan to take out the other Tributes. I'm erring towards the idea of drowning them all. I don't know how, but it would be the least bloody way to get the job done. Emil and I can swim like fish and I can easily hide Alexander somewhere safe until it is over. I'm trying to think of what's been done in previous Hunger Games, the boy from Three who electrocuted the Arena featuring prominently in my mind. But we don't have wire and Chloe, with her brainy knowledge of electronics, is gone. Emil suggests making enough noise to attract the Tributes and then we ambush them. I'm trying to not think about the arithmetic involved in determining our odds of survival on that. I hate math. In District Four our learning in school always comes back to fish. If Jane has seven fish and Paul has three, how many fish does Isaac have? When I was younger, I answered with 'technically they have no fish because they had to give them to the Capitol.' Eight years on and I still remember the beating I got in front of the entire class.

By lunchtime we still have no plan.

"Is it just me, or is it really dark today?" Emil asked as we ate more out of the hamper. I looked up at the sky, filling with dark clouds.

"No, it looks like it might rain." I say. I push another serving of food towards Alexander. "Eat, sweetie." I tell him. He belches loudly and laughs. Twelve year olds, charming.

I will never live to have children of my own. Not that I actually ever wanted kids, considering the shape our world is in, but the finality of it all is depressing. I know Oliver would be a good father but I just can't see myself as a mother. I couldn't condemn a child to live in fear of the Arena.

The day is heating up quickly, the Gamemakers clearly holding off on the idea of rain in favour for turning the Arena into a desert, and when we finish breakfast I leave the boys so I can take a dip in the lake. I stay in the shallows, my sword close at hand as I undressed at top speed and got into the water. Nudity is not really a problem in the Games and they're either editing me out or admiring what's left of my curves so it's win-win either way. My ribs and hips stick out under my skin, I've been shivering the weight off over the time spent in the Arena in spite of the relatively consistent meals. I relish in the peaceful moment I have to wash the sweat and dirt off my skin, taking stock of the grazes I need to tend to when I get back to camp. Since it's scorching hot now I wash my clothes as well and lay them on a rock where they steam and dry in ten minutes. It's so quiet here. I sit still and watch inquisitive fish dart around my toes in the clear water. A bird whistles and the breeze moves the bulrushes at the water's edge.

Clean and dry, I redress and tie my damp, dark red hair back in its pony tail and return to camp. Alexander looks thrilled to see me and runs up to hug me. "Guess what, there's a mulberry tree." He grins toothily. I smile back, brushing his gingery curls back from his forehead.

"Yep, really." Emil hoists his pack onto his back and holds out mine. I slip it onto my shoulders and we walk the short distance to the tree, blooming with plump dark mulberries.

"It's beautiful." I say with faint disbelief at the magnificence of the tree. "Are you sure it's safe?" I looked to Emil.

He shrugs, "I feel fine. We had a few while you were in the lake. Washing. Such a girl."

I aim a kick at him, "Forgive me for not wanting smell! Such a boy!" I tease and we laugh, play wrestling for Alexander's amusement. I let Emil think he's going to win for half a second and his premature triumph lets me lock him into an arm bar.

"Ow. Ow. Ow!" he squirmed. "Ok, you win. You're not a girl." He must have winked at Alexander or something because the kid starts laughing. "Tess is a boy!"

"So mature." I roll my eyes and flip Emil so he's pinned underneath my knees. "Come on. Didn't they teach you this at the Academy? I thought all the boys knew how to fight properly." I mock when he shows little chance of escaping. "Or did they actually let two girls from District Four in the Hunger Games this year? Are they even allowed to do that?"

"They taught us a few things." And then the world spins and I'm flat on my stomach, arm pinned behind me, his free hand over my face. Well this is annoying! With a sly grin I lick the back of his hand and spring free when he jerks back in disgust, rolling over my shoulder and coming up on my feet.

"And that's how we do it in District Four!" I say proudly, while Alexander cheers for me and Emil wipes my spit off on his pant leg. "You had it coming." I tell him and give him a hug which he returns, lifting me off my feet.

"You fight good, Tess, but dirty. I hope I don't get rabies." He jokes while I throw my jacket on top of my pack, much too hot now, and take a drink of water. I debate taking off the tank top underneath my shirt when Alexander comes up, holding out a handful of mulberries.

I haven't tasted mulberries since I was little, when my father would take me to the tree on the outskirts of the District that grew tall for years until Peacekeepers cut it down. It's not long before our mouths and fingers are stained a deep purple. I find I'm actually laughing. After all the horrors we've been through, we have a plan and a purpose. And this perfect, perfect day. Emil lifts Alexander up so he can reach the fruits on the higher branches and we make up a silly game where he throws them down and we get points if we can catch the ripe berries in our mouths. For the first time since the Games started we have full stomachs and these delicious berries that taste so good. I hold a branch above my head, turning slowly in the broken sunlight made by the leaves.

Everything goes quiet, heavy footfalls on the hard ground are breaking through our perfect moment. I dive for my knives before I register anything else, knowing that this could only be an attack.

Lois, her hair a matted mess, eyes wild. Gone is the beautiful girl in her interview dress, the strong Tribute in her cape of red and blue. She licks her cracked lips. She's operating alone, there's no sign of Clark, but even still I know Emil is looking through the trees for him, his spear in hand.

"Alexander, Run!" I shove the boy away blindly, hoping he has the good sense to climb up the tree. I'm too far from my sword, I have more knives near my pack, if I could only get to them. I know if I take my eyes off Lois she will attack like a rabid dog. I don't have time to make a strategy, I shout for Emil as Lois springs at me.

We go down with a crash, I throw as many punches as I can, locking my legs around her head to try and belt her skull into the earth. I manage this only once as she breaks free, dazed but deadly. Her elbow hits my throat, crushing and hurting as I struggle for breath. And then I see she has a knife in her hand and I throw myself out of the way, swinging my own knife in response, trying to hit some part of her, enough to slow her down so I can deliver the death blow. At this close range I see her eyes and in the dark brown is reflected the same thing that's spinning through my veins - Fear.

Deep, desperate fear.

I almost pity her, but Lois kicks me in the stomach and, gasping for breath, I land on my knees with a bony crunch, my cry for Emil's help getting stuck in my throat.

Lois shouts out something and I see Alexander has launched himself at her and is clinging onto her back, a rock in his hand. But he's so tiny compared to her, the Career who never wanted for food or attention or training, and she throws him off and her hand slashes the air as he falls back. I'm still struggling to get off the ground and back into the fight. Emil hauls me up and we fight her off, back to back.

Everything is too fast, my blood pounds in my ears, Lois gets a punch in the mouth from Emil and blood and teeth go flying. Emil sees his moment and grabs her by the throat. I close my eyes tight.

_BOOM!_

When I open my eyes, Lois lies dead on the ground, her eyes blank and wide open, reflecting dark versions of the clouds above. Emil doesn't say a word, he grabs her body and storms into the woods. I try to catch my breath, taking in the gashes and scratches the battle has left on me, the long slash on my forearm that is slowly filling with red.

"Tess?"

Alexander's voice is weak and fragile and my blood runs cold in an instant. Something is wrong. I rush to his side, already knowing that I am too late, but it doesn't stop me from trying to staunch the blood that blooms like vivid roses across his torso, wadding up my t-shirt to use as a bandage. Numbness sweeps over me as I take his hand. "I'm here, baby."

He looks so scared, his eyes searching for me until he can focus on my face and blink. "Tess?"

"You're ok." I say, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. "It's alright, I'm here. EMIL!" I call for him, "EMIL!" I hear him return and his soft, 'oh no.'

"Quickly, my bag… we can… we can save him…" I say, my voice sounding odd and distorted in my ears. He doesn't move from my side, kneeling down instead.

"It's too late, Tess."

I punch Emil hard in the mouth. Shove him away from us. I know it's no use, but I have to try something. I'm hoping for a parachute, for a miracle.

Alexander holds my hand tightly. Above us a bird sings and the breeze rustles the leaves in the mulberry tree. Everything was so quiet. "I love you, Tess."

"I love you too." I whisper, and I mean it, I love him as much as I love Megan. I want to tell him that I'll make everything ok. I want so desperately, to make everything ok. But it's a promise I can't possibly keep.

"Tell me a story. I don't… I'm so scared…"

I search through my mind for something, anything to ease Alexander's fear and pain. I have no idea where to start, trying to think of stories my mother would tell me when I was little, or the one's Megan loved. And then I suddenly knew the story, one my mother used to tell me, from before the first Hunger Games had even been thought of.

"All children, except one, grow up. They soon know they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew, was this…"

Alexander's breathing slowed but I kept going, telling him a story about a boy who never grew up, who lived in a wonderful land and battled pirates and had amazing adventures. The cannon sounded and I broke down completely, hugging him to my chest, my lips pressed to his forehead. Emil put his arms around me, trying to pull me away but I couldn't move. I was frozen beside Alexander's body, locked in grief that was so painful my body ached and my head spun.

"Tess…" Emil put his hand on my arm. I couldn't look at him, my eyes squeezed shut from crying. "Tess, they need to take his body."

I opened my eyes, blinking back the tears. _I know, Emil_, I try to say but nothing comes out of my mouth except a pitiful moan. I covered Alexander with my jacket, tucking it in like it was a blanket around him, and ran my hand over his hair again. He's gone. He's gone. It echoes in my mind but I can't believe it.

"Come on, Tess." Emil pulled at my arm again, turning me away.

Eventually I am aware that Emil has helped me to my feet and swung me into his arms, carrying me away even though I kick and scream and cry. He doesn't understand that I don't want to leave Alexander! I can't leave him alone, not here, I want to wash the blood off his face and kiss his downy soft cheek one last time. I keep screaming for him, as the Arena takes the burden of his death and Emil, oh Emil, belts me hard in the side of the head so everything goes black.

**The Fallen**

Lois Lane, District Two

Alexander, District Twelve

AN: I'm so sorry! I'm sorry Alexander! I'm sorry Tess! I'm sorry dear readers.

You didn't think Tess would start singing "How Do We Do" did you? If it isn't immediately obvious, she's retelling J.M Barrie's "Peter Pan".


	14. Redemption

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 14 - Redemption_

I awake from a dreamless sleep. For a moment I don't even know where I am. I can hear the sound of waves and smell salt water and toast. Disorientated I lie still, until it all floods back in. I slowly sit up, feeling my head pound and an exploratory touch makes me wince and see stars. I've got a large lump on my head, but it doesn't seem to be bleeding. I notice my hands are clean, my injured arm is bandaged and I've dislodged a square of material that was covering me, a jacket. Emil's jacket.

"Emil?" I call weakly, my voice whispery and cracked. He appears after a moment.

"Pete and Oliver sent us coffee." He said, holding out a steaming mug to me. I start to cry, as I accept the cup, the heat soaking into my hands. It's fine china from the Capitol and looks out of place in my bruised, scratched hands. Emil has a very swollen jaw and I close my eyes at what I did to him. If anything, I'm amazed that I'm still alive here. He could have killed me in the night and, at this moment, I would have gladly accepted death. Emil sat beside me and we drank our coffee in silence and watched the sun rise steadily over the water.

"I'm sorry." I said, indicating his jaw with a wave of my hand, "I just… I went crazy back there."

"I would have been surprised by any other reaction, Tess. What happened was _horrible_." He said. "Sorry I knocked you out, but you were making so much noise…"

I looked for the right words but I failed. Alexander was dead, his body had been taken away. He is the boy who will never grow up. My voice is struggling past the lump in my throat as I ball up Emil's jacket and push it into his hands. "I wanted, so badly, to save that little boy."

"I know, Tess." Emil pulled me into his side, holding me and stroking my hair while I sobbed out all the pain and grief. I gave in to this selfish act, needing to be held, needing his comfort.

"Are you ok?" I finally find the sense to ask him. And then I see it, wondering why I had missed it before. "Your head! Emil, how long has it been like that?" the gash in his forehead, the one I did my best to clean and dress a few days ago, had reopened, the sutures gone. It was dark red with bruises and congealed blood, swollen and even with my limited medical knowledge I could tell it was infected.

"I'm alright."

"No you are not!" I scowl, grabbing my pack and rifling through. I don't have much antiseptic left in the tube and a scan of the sky shows there are no parachutes heading our way. "You should have woken me when it was getting bad. What did you do to it?"

"Nothing."

"Clearly. I thought your parents were healers, didn't you learn anything from them?" I'm cross as I put on a swipe of cream and look for a clean bandage. Then I stop. I don't know if I should bandage it or leave it to dry… I opt for bandaging it, figuring I could always take it off to check and I don't want additional dirt getting into the wound. I find Emil's forehead hot to the touch. "And you have a fever!" I find some tablets in the first aid kit and give him two to take with water.

"You're a lovely nurse. Great bedside manner."

"If you looked after yourself, you wouldn't need one!" I admonished. Then sighed. "Such a boy." My attempt at a smile is pathetic. We look at each for a moment before I turn away and fold up the first aid kit. "Anyway. You'll be ok on the wound front, how about everything else."

Emil shrugs. "The girl from Two. She was my first kill, you know?" He pressed his lips into a thin line.

"They say it gets easier. But it doesn't."

"Who… who were yours?"

"Too many." And then a sob threatens me again. "Alexander."

"You didn't kill him, Tess."

"I should have saved him. I should have protected him more. Kept him hidden." I shook my head, my ears filling with white noise and my nose starting to run again. I was so arrogant, through the entire Games I've been so certain of my strength as a Career that I've overlooked so much. I put my head on my knees as the tears fell, but then an awful sound split the air and we leapt to our feet, grabbing weapons, preparing for the worst. The aches in my joints protested. The mountain on the far side of the Arena that we had not ventured to explore was now a volcano.

"Do you think it will reach us?" Emil asked, as we watched half of the pine forest melt. Flocks of birds rise screeching into the air as the Gamemakers effectively decrease the size of the Arena. I wonder if any Tributes were trapped in the flowing lava. The cannon could easily be lost in the sound that was ripping the air apart.

I shook my head slowly, "They're trying to dive us all together. They must want to end it soon." I watched the sky go dark with ash and fire, the Gamemakers reminding us that they have the ultimate power here. And then I felt the tears rise up in my throat again, a sob escaping my lips. I dropped my sword and covered my face with my hands. Alexander was gone. Oliver was so far away. Everything was going up in smoke. Emil put his arm around me.

"Come on, I think we'll be ok up here." He says, helping me sit back down. The forest near the Cornucopia is still intact so there's no way the lava will reach us here on the cliff. I leant into Emil's side, hiding my face against his shoulder. Eventually, when I was ok, I pulled away and stroked my hand down the front of his shirt, like I did the night we decided on our Alliance. We have no words left and I can't bear the idea of food, but I offer Emil a steak from the hamper that will go bad if we don't eat it soon.

"Do you want me to cook this for you?"

"I can't eat." Says Emil, turning his nose up at the meat. I put it down slowly. He's getting worse if he's refusing food already.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know… breakfast, at the mulberry tree."

I take a deep breath. "You have to…"

"No. I don't want to eat, Tess!" he snaps.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to deal with illness beyond scrapes and bruises. I put more antiseptic cream on the wound, leaving the bandage off this time, and sit back, hugging my knees and worrying my bottom lip with my teeth. I'm hungry and chew one of our District Four bread rolls, comforted a little by the taste of home.

Emil suggests moving to a different location as the sun starts to lower but I shake my head. I like this cliff, the empty ground and the sound of the ocean, how we are concealed in the rocks and straggly bushes that thrive in the salt laden air. I don't think I have the strength to move and I know that despite the brave face, Emil is in no shape to go anywhere.

"It's like being home." I told him. "I just want to go home, Emil. I want to go back to Megan."

"I want to go home too." He says and I shatter. All this time I've been wrapped up in myself – in my desperation to survive, and then to save Alexander and in some way atone for what I have done. But I never even thought about Emil and who he might be leaving behind. His parents and brothers and friends. I don't know who went to say goodbye to him the day of the Reaping, I don't even know what he has for a token. Shame isn't a big enough word for what I feel.

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, not even caring about the cameras, because I have snot and tears going everywhere. "You should just kill me." I mumble. What do I have in my favour from my time in the Games? That I haven't given up? That I was kind to Alexander? That I haven't murdered my district partner even though I am so despicable that I'm still secretly waiting for someone else to bump him off before the pool comes down to just him and me. The harsh truth is that I valued my own life over everyone else's in the Games, my will to live was so great that I was willing to kill just to hold on for an extra day or more. Will Megan ever look me in the face again?

"Just… kill me and then be the one to go home. I can't do this anymore."

"No, Tess, I won't." he shakes his head, glaring at me before he sighs, looking away. "The odds were never in our favour were they?" he said. "I watched you walk into Oliver's life and now… this is the most time I get to spend with you in three years and look where we are. I used to wonder if you'd forgotten all about me, the moment you saw him. I wondered if you even cared." He laughs sadly and I raise my head to look at him. He goes to say something else, but I stop him and press my fingers to his lips.

"I didn't forget you. And I did care. I still care." My heart skips a beat as his eyes drop to my lips. I know Oliver will understand. I lower my lips to Emil's and kiss him. I kiss him for the life that we never had together and for all the terrors that we have been through now. It wasn't romantic, it was friendship and the only way I could think of to express how grateful I was to him, my poor, dying friend. Because I know he is dying. I shut my eyes against the tears and felt his hand slip up the back of my neck, the other going to hold my shaking free hand.

I wonder briefly what my life would have been like if I'd never fallen in love with Oliver. And if we had not been Reaped for the Hunger Games, would Emil and I have grown up and got married or would the fear and poverty we live in drive us apart into bitterness?

From the sky, bottles of water, rolls of bread and even new clothes, jewellery and weapons like knives and garrotting wire floated down on parachutes. The audience rewarding our cinematic moment in gifts that I don't even want, because they are stupid, useless gifts without medicine amongst the bounty. I don't care about the cost or the heartstrings we pulled amongst the audience. I can only see mine and Emil's lives hanging on a fine thread.

My lips don't burn, my head doesn't spin, but it is still nice to kiss and be kissed in return. It is our rebellion against the Hunger Games, to show the Capitol that they can't use us. And it is my redemption, because I know that even if I live, for the rest of my life I will be trapped in this Arena, never really escaping it. But for now, I have this fragile, beautiful, moment.

Emil pulled away, flickers of pain crossing his face. "Are you ok?" I asked. He waved me away with his hand, but I manage to press my palm on the good side of his forehead. "Your temperature is worse." I can hear the note of worry in my voice.

"I'm ok." He says, but still takes two more of the fever reducing pills I give him.

Emil thanked me for the kiss, his cheeks burning pink (from blush or fever, it's hard to tell) while he busied himself dividing the gifts between us and slipped a new jacket around my shoulders. I played idly with a diamond bracelet someone sent me while we sit side by side, watching the sun begin to set, turning the string of diamonds to beads of blood. What the Hell am I going to do with a diamond bracelet? I snap the box shut and put it down on the ground beside me.

"I'm scared that I've become a bad person, Emil. I've murdered, and betrayed people…" I closed my eyes and felt his hand on mine, sliding up to my shoulder. Maybe it should be him who wins in the end. He might even marry Jamie. "Everything is so dark."

"Shh… You're not a bad person. Look at what we've been thrown into, Tess, it's not like we have a choice in the matter." I think about him killing Lois, the determined set of his jaw when he took her body away. We have both changed so much.

"We always have a choice." I say. To fight or love. To save your own life or someone else's. I wonder if these same thoughts worried Mercy Graves while she tended to Oliver, bringing him back from the brink of death in their Games five years ago. "And I didn't make good ones. So maybe I'm not the person you think I am."

Emil tilts his head, his dark eyes meeting mine. "Maybe you are, maybe you just don't believe it yet."

Forgiveness and light. My chance at redemption. I wanted to speak, to say something decent in return, to thank him but I can't find the words and he says something about feeling sick again. My small medicines aren't working and I cannot bear this, to be the silent, useless witness to his slow death. I help him lie down, suggesting that he try to sleep, even though I'm terrified that I might wake up beside a corpse. In the sky Clark Kent's face shines, he must have died in the volcano. I turn back to Emil. "See, there's only four left now. You just have to hold on."

He chuckled a little, "Tess. Always so noble." He said quietly, so I almost didn't catch it.

"Emil."

He wrapped his hand around mine, skin burning. "Just stay, please."

I nod, but he's closed his eyes so he doesn't see it and I have to speak. "I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you."

"Thanks."

It's nearing morning when he starts to shake and ramble, waking me out of my own fretful doze, his eyes flicking from side to side behind his eyelids. He doesn't hear my voice as I drape cold cloths over his brow. I sit up, my back against a rock, the dying embers of the fire keeping us warm. I cried silently, watching Emil slip further and further away. I crawl over to him and slide under his arm, he is shivering now, his skin a parade of goose pimples. I rest my head over his chest, listening to his heartbeat and watching the sun rise. I'm too terrified to sleep, being so unprotected up on this cliff.

By mid-morning I can tell that it's touch and go with Emil. I make a clear soup out of clean water and meat and feed him tiny spoonfuls and bits of bread. He keeps saying he's ok, but I can see that he's not. Already there are thin red streaks across his forehead and neck, the blood poisoning setting in. I lie down next to him when he won't eat anymore, holding his hand, too tired and sad to do anything else. He falls asleep again instantly and my whole body aches for rest. I pull myself together enough to secure our campsite. First I cut more of the same bushes that grow at the far side of the cliff and carry the scratchy branches to our spot, adding concealment to the area. I then use some of the younger, more flexible branches and the garrotting wire to make a trap that if anyone walks into, will snap and give me a few moments of warning to grab my sword and kill them. Still not a hundred percent happy, I organise everything and spread out my sleeping bag. It's warm enough with the sun heated ground beneath us, and Emil's temperature, to not need it just yet. I lie beside him, my head on his chest again and a knife in my hand. I close my eyes.

I wake, freezing cold, the sky above scattered with stars, and in the darkness reach to pull my sleeping bag over me, shivering to generate some warmth.

"Emil, are you ok?" I mumble and hear silence in response. It's the silence that makes me worry as I sit up slowly. "Emil?" I shake his shoulder, getting no response. Oh no. Oh please no. "Emil! Emil wake up!"

I can barely see anything and I have to risk it, searching blindly through my pack for the box of matches. I know what's waiting when I strike it, and my numb fingers fumble and drop two before I get the third to catch fire.

He's dead. I start shaking violently, drop the match which extinguishes immediately and skid across the ground on my knees to lean against the rock wall opposite, digging my nails into the crumbly stone. White panic envelopes my mind while I sobbed because it was all too much, too futile. Alexander, and Chloe, and now Emil… I can't do this anymore. I'm going crazy, I can feel it. Splinters drawing through my mind.

I grab my sleeping bag, wrapping it around me and clinging to the rock as if I was going to be carried away by the slight breeze. It's so dark and cold and I can't lie beside his body, not when he's... I can't do that. I sob silently and I think I fell asleep, because when I next opened my eyes the sun was rising, the light pale blue and the ocean shining like a mirror.

I return to Emil's side slowly, holding his icy hand, his lips tinged blue. I start shaking him because there is still an overwhelming part of me that doesn't want to believe he is gone, just hoping he will wake up.

"You can't leave me, Emil." I choke out, clinging to his hand and his shoulder as if I can hold him here by force of will alone. "Don't leave me here. Please don't leave me here."

He's gone, he's gone. I threw myself onto his chest and sobbed. I've lost everyone. Everything. I scream at the sky, at the rising sun that turns the ocean red and gold. Let Lex find me. Kill me. I just want to go home. I want to go home.

I don't know how long I've stayed here, crying into his chest. "I'm sorry." I whimper as I sit up. He could be sleeping. "I'm so sorry." I have to move, I can't stay here anymore. With shaky hands I zip up Emil's jacket so that he won't be cold anymore. With my water bottle and sleeve I gently dab the blood away from his face.

"You're safe now." I whisper. "Goodbye, Emil."

**The Fallen**

Clark Kent, District Two

Emil Hamilton, District Four

_AN: Reviews are love_


	15. The Final Day

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 15 – The Final Day_

I have to get out of this Arena. I'm losing my mind, everything swirls and fractures and it won't stop. I see a kaleidoscope of colours when I close my eyes, tormenting me with the faces of everyone I've lost. I don't know how long I've been lying here, unwilling to move. I am back in the woods, I ran in the first direction I could see and now find myself lying cocooned in my sleeping bag under a shelf of rock. We've had, by my best guess, three days of miserable rain and my joints are stiff from not moving. I've barely eaten anything other than the bread, and I am so dehydrated. All three water bottles are empty now and I've had no desire to move around and search for water. My tongue is like sandpaper and I'm starting to see things, odd shadows moving through the trees. I shut my eyes tight against the phantoms and cry myself to sleep, sword clutched in my hand, even though I would probably be useless against an attack. I lie in the rain, thinking and thinking and trying to pull myself out of bottomless nightmares. I relive the Tributes' deaths, I watch Megan burn and Oliver fall off a cliff, unable to hold onto him. I watch my father drown over and over, and my mother waste away with illness.

On the fourth day I have a good dream. It's too bright, the colours are too vivid so I know it's not real, but I wish it was. It wasn't a full dream, more like half connected memories and images. I watched the sand beneath my feet as I ran along the beach. Rope coiled in a pool of sunlight. A yellow rose on Reaping day. Megan with ribbons in her hair, flying like a flag on the wind. Oliver walking through the door after a long day out on the boats, his hands calloused from work but so gentle in his caress. He kissed me. Megan's laughter was still ringing in my ears when I woke.

I lay still, looking up at the sky which was clear and pale grey. I knew this was it. This would be the final day. I got out of my sleeping bag and organised myself. I made it my first duty to find water. I slowly made my way through the woods so I wouldn't waste too much of my depleted energy, looking for a marker that would point me to the Cornucopia or a source of water. I was close to giving up, starting to stumble over my own feet, vision tilting from side to side. I lifted my head up to the sky, wishing it would rain again. Then I saw the parachute.

It landed in my hands, a small bottle of life giving water attached to the silver parachute. I dropped to my knees, cradling it as I gently unscrewed the cap and took a tiny sip, then another. I can't imagine how much this would have cost a sponsor. It was a symbol - someone still believed in me. I drank, the clear, cold liquid driving away the fog in my mind until I felt like a human being again.

I held the empty bottle to my chest and said, "thank you."

Renewed, I was able to make it out of the woods and back to the thinner edges near the Cornucopia. I retraced long gone steps to the place where me and the other Careers spent the first night, and filled my water bottle there and I eat the last of my food, regaining my strength. I kept my sword at the ready in case of an attack, be it Tribute or muttation, but none came. I was totally alone in the woods. The sun was rising steadily, setting the golden horn of the Cornucopia ablaze. I remembered suddenly that my pocket was full of those poisonous berries. I had been so caught up in everything that had happened that I'd completely forgotten about them. I slipped on my gloves and took one out of my pocket, rolling the plump berry between my fingers. Do I kill myself or not? I mused on this, realising that with only Two Tributes against me, it was now or never to decide whether or not I see this Game out to the end. I am so tired. Lex is stronger than me, bigger than me and the District Ten girl, while I can't remember anything about her from Training, must be tough and deadly to have made it this far. I feel so hopeless and exhausted. I just want it to end.

But I've survived this far… and I remember my promise to Megan and Oliver. I think about Alexander and decide I can't let him die for nothing, to be only a Tribute. I will make sure they are remembered.

I fling the berry away.

_BOOM!_

The cannon made me jump and I ran to the edge of the forest, concealing myself in the undergrowth to watch. A hovercraft appeared and I saw the girl from Ten be lifted out of the trees, her blond hair shining in the sun, blood raining down.

It was just Lex and me now and judging by the amount of blood I just saw from District Ten, he's either really close or there are vicious mutts looking for their next victim. This is the start of the real battle. I left the back pack, I didn't want to be slowed down and whatever the outcome, I wouldn't need it anymore. Keeping only the knives in my belt and my sword, I wore my gloves since they gripped better and my palms were sweating with fear. I waited. I don't want to initiate the fight but I know that if we don't find each other soon, the Gamemakers will send in something to drive us together. I don't want to be ripped apart by mutts. I watched the sun in the sky, it was gearing towards afternoon and I couldn't sit here any longer.

"Oliver." I whispered, wondering if the cameras are on me. I hope they are. I hope they are all watching. "Whatever happens, I love you. I'll always love you."

I go back towards the beach, hating that I was so exposed, walking between the pedestals we started the Games on. I can hear the waves rushing against the sand. It sounds like home. I want to go home.

There he is. Lex ran towards me across the hard earth, blade in hand, eyes flashing with hate and bloodlust. The weeks in the Arena have ruined him as well, scarred and bloody, the hand that gripped his sword was red and raw. But he looks well fed, he's had good sponsors. I steady myself, draw my sword. Oliver. Megan. Emil. Alexander. I have something to fight for. I'm not going down without a fight. And I realise that I have come full circle. I have gone from innocence to a murderer, to a girl who craved light when she lived in darkness. And now I have my chance for freedom. I take a breath. This is it.

I hurl six knives, sunlight shining off them as they fan out through the air. Lex dodges most of them, but one sticks in his left arm and slows him down, just a little. Metal hits metal as I block his sword with mine, everything blurs as my instincts take over. This is the final fight to the Death. I feel pain bloom where I'm not fast enough to move, but I know that Lex is copping equal damage from me. His warm blood hits me in the face as I slash his arm. I keep breathing; I keep fighting, because it's all I can do.

Our battle takes us from the edge of the field to the beach. Lex slashed at the air, I practically had to suck in my stomach to avoid being sliced in half. The effort the fight was taking him gave me a chance and I turned heel and ran for it.

"I'll kill you Four!" he roared in pursuit. I got down to the sand, closer to the waves where it was damp and compacted. This is my terrain. I have the advantage of knowing instinctively where to place my feet and balance to fight on sand. Lex doesn't. It was still tiring though, and my days with minimal food and water did not help me at all. But I don't stop – block. Parry. Slash. Duck. Stab. Block. I dance circles around Lex.

In the end we've gotten too close, Lex is disarmed, the sword hits the ground and my frantic brain screams to finish him.

I don't see the second knife until it is hilt deep in my stomach.

The pain splits my body into pieces; I drop the sword as my hands go limp with shooting agony. Stars blink in front of my eyes as Lex pulls out the knife and flings it aside. His arms catch me as I fall. Don't humiliate me. Just cut my throat and let me die with dignity, I beg silently. He breathes hard, his face flecked with blood. Behind him the sky is so blue.

"You'll find I'm actually saving you." he says breathlessly.

I'm starting to see in grey, my numb fingers useless against the flow of blood. "From what?" I ask.

He looks at me, this bloodthirsty killer, the boy who was so confident in his interview. His eyes are haunted, broken. "From turning into me. From these Games and what they've done to me. I've lost _everything_. This is all I have left."

Oliver. Megan. I can see their faces swimming in the haze. "No." I rasp.

"But I don't understand you, Four. What did you want? There's always a purpose to winning."

I take as deep a breath as I can through the pain searing my torso. Yes there's purpose. My will to live, the money and fame and jewels. But I didn't want any of that. "What I will never have… Redemption." I've killed. I've hurt people. I've betrayed. I couldn't save Alexander or Emil. I can't even save myself. And Lex leans above me, his wounds are great but I'm starting to see double. We're just trying to outlast each other now. I reach my hand into my pocket, crush the berries and press my shaking hand to his face. "But you're too late." I tell him. One last kill.

"What is this?" he wipes the dark purple stain off his cheek as my hand thuds back onto the ground beside me. I won't last. We are both going to die and there will be no Victor. I can taste my own blood on my tongue.

"Poison."

"How long?" he asks, thinking the same as me. Which one of us will survive? It's getting harder to draw breath.

"Seconds." I breathe as he collapses and the _BOOM!_ of the canon shatters the air.

I feel myself falling through the depths of the ocean, I can hear music and sounds that mean nothing to me. It's all over… it's all over… the sound of the waves grow louder and I open my eyes one last time, looking at the ocean and the white horizon line. I know it's not really the horizon, but the end of the Arena. This place of horror and beauty. Here on this beach, it's not a bad place to die. It's actually rather beautiful.

_To be continued..._

**The Fallen**

Lex Luthor, District One

Imra Ardeen, District Ten


	16. The Victor

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 16 – The Victor_

I could hear voices, distant and echoing like being heard over hundreds of miles. I wake in white fog with no idea where I am. My mouth feels dry and my eyes burn but I blink until they feel better and I can see clearly again. I'm in a bed that feels like a marshmallow, it's so soft and comfortable and warm, I could easily slip back into sleep. There is a faint beeping from far away, a click of shoe soles on hard floor, murmured voices. I look to my left and I see the most welcome sight.

Oliver is sitting in a chair beside my bed, leaning back, his mouth slightly open as he snores. His hand is not far from my own, open palmed on the mattress and I grab hold of his hand. He is real. He is real and warm and I press my cheek into his palm and watch as he wakes up.

"Oliver!" I breathe. His eyes open slowly.

"Tess!" He shouts, launching forward and enveloping me in a hug. I hug him back as he jumps onto my bed, rocking me from side to side in our embrace. I feel the tears start and don't move to stop them. He's crying and shouting, the door opens and Pete Ross bursts in.

"I KNEW IT! I SAID YOU'D WIN!" he roars with unmistakable joy. I still flinch at the volume of his voice, at the way he barrels across the room to join the hug. I guess a part of my mind is still in the Arena, and I work through the rising panic that they will stab me or turn into mutts in my hands. Oliver won't let me go, and as my mind clears and I come back into this reality, I find I don't mind at all, so desperate to touch every part of him, to stare into his face for hours.

"You're here… you're here." He sobs into my hair. I think of everything I have lost, but briefly. There will be time to grieve properly. Right now I have Oliver. He pulls back, his eyes full of tears, half laughing, and he crashes his lips against mine. I think I might have fainted. I had been so close to death, so terrified that I would never see him again, that my body almost overdoses on the passion his kiss inspires in me. My heart rate monitor screams and a doctor comes rushing in.

"Plenty of time for that later," he says with a smile. "How are you feeling, Miss Mercer?"

I just look at him, I can't go into how I feel right now. "Thirsty. And kind of hungry." I say in answer and someone brings me a glass of water. My hands are so clean and shiny, that if it wasn't for my ragged and broken nails, I might have thought the Hunger Games had been just a very, very bad dream. I down the glass of water and wait for my food to be brought in, taking the opportunity to examine my body.

"They did a full body polish." Said Oliver as I run my hands over my stomach where I expected to find a scar. "You're perfect." He then whispers in my ear, "but you were always perfect to me."

I don't answer. Because while my skin may be flawless, my body is still a wreck. I can feel my ribs and see the bones in my hips through the hospital gown I wear. My wrists are so bony. I am revolted by myself. I turn my face away from Oliver.

"I'm hideous." I shake out. While I got food in the Arena, the weeks of stress and terror, all the running and fighting, completely negated any nutritional value it might have had. I'm skin and bone and it's disgusting. My face in the mirror is all jarringly sharp cheekbones and sunk in eyes. But the scar on my face, where Zod burnt me, is gone completely. So are my freckles and the faint cut on my jaw from when I tripped and fell when I seven. Even the scars on my hands from working on the boats have disappeared. I am so artificially perfect, I don't know whether to cry or be grateful.

My food is brought in and Oliver holds me back when I show signs of launching at it. "Take it easy, ok." It's not a big meal, in fact I think I had more food starving in the Arena. Bread, broth with a bit of meat in it, chopped up fruit salad. I hold the spoon weakly and delicately scoop up some broth. It's so delicious that I practically inhale the rest and then have to lie still for an hour with stomach cramps. Oliver kindly refrains from saying 'I told you so!' Instead he lies spooning me, rubbing my belly with his hand and playing with my hair.

"I thought I was going to die." I mumbled, closing my eyes at the sensation of his hands on me. "I was so, so scared."

"You did well, Tess." He says quietly. "If you can sleep, sleep. Don't think about it. Pretend it was all a bad dream. The Hunger Games were never real."

"Did that work for you?" I ask archly. I turn to look at him. These past weeks have worn him down with deep bags under his eyes and worry lines on his forehead. He is still so devastatingly handsome though. Still the man I fell in love with.

"Not yet." He replies. "But you know what, this time I'll be right here with you. I'm not going anywhere."

I clutch at his hands. I'm so used to sleeping with a knife in my hands that I feel so exposed and vulnerable without a weapon. I know I can't be hurt now but even still, it takes me an hour to feel calm enough to drift off. I wake, hours later, from a nightmare so vivid and horrifying I accidently punch my doctor in the face, my hands numb from the force with which I held onto Oliver.

After that incident, I don't get much sleep. Oliver sits up with me until I'm going incoherent with exhaustion. I want sleep, but I'm terrified of what I'll see when I close my eyes. The doctors offer me drugs that I refuse after only one use. I couldn't wake up, I was paralysed into reliving Alexander's death over and over when I took them, unable to wake myself up. By the time Faora comes in to take me away, I'm a mess on the verge of tears and my hands won't stop shaking. One of the nurses was muttering 'post-traumatic stress' to Oliver when she thought I wasn't listening. I'd love to remind her about who gave me post-traumatic stress.

"You brave, brave girl." Faora says as she hugs me tightly. I lean into her embrace. She smells of the most divine perfume and I can't help but breathe deep the scent of her hair and her warm arms and block out the world. Eventually she lets me go and opens the bag she had brought with her. "Put these on, and then when we get to the apartment we'll make you up properly for tonight."

She gives me a simple (by Capitol standards) sky blue, sleeveless shirt and thick white skirt to wear and a pair of sparkly flat shoes. I cling to her arm as I take my first shaky steps out of my hospital room. Oliver pretends not to recognise me in my sparkly clothes in an attempt to lighten me up. It works to some extent, but I'm not really happy until he hugs me again and I can lean into the crook of his arms in the car ride to the training centre.

I'm supposed to be interviewed tonight, in the same set-up as the pre-Games interview. Only it is a four hour ordeal that involves watching the Games on the big screen and commentating at important parts. I'm so terrified about what I'm going to see that I make myself sick. Oliver gets into a yelling match with one of the Games officials, trying to explain that I'm not mentally stable enough for this and could we postpone it for another day or two.

Faora gives me a bright blue pill while I'm in the bath. "It will help," she says, washing my hair for me with gentle massages to my scalp. I eye it dubiously but then swallow it down.

Within fifteen minutes I'm humming inanely while she paints my nails blue. The pill has an odd effect of soothing me right down while keeping my energy up. While she works, she preps me on the possible questions and answers then she sighs heavily and says, "Your Alliances are… a point of interest… the Tribute from Twelve –"

"Alexander!" I say his name forcefully.

Faora's eyes meet mine. "Alexander." She repeats gently and I'm grateful. I don't want him to be 'the Tribute from Twelve'. He is Alexander. Faora continues, "The Capitol were in hysterics. It was the most heartbreaking thing ever and your story… Tess you really won the crowds in the Arena. You have such an amazing heart, everyone will understand."

"What do you mean?"

"The Gamemakers are a little concerned at your… Tess, what you said about wanting to save him, asking the District One Tribute for redemption… that kind of thing doesn't happen in the Games that often." She cups my cheek with her hand as my blood chills, so the cameras had been around to catch that. "You're not in trouble – it's what makes the Games so amazing, the friendships between the Tributes. I just didn't want you to be caught off guard in the interview."

So they think it was a sign of rebellion. Apparently true Victors don't wish for their own death, or show signs of wanting to protect another Tribute over their own life. Alexander was a child! I nod slowly, digesting what Faora said as she opened the wardrobe and took out a garment bag. "Is that my dress?"

She nodded with a small smile. "We'll do your makeup first."

Faora does a beautiful job on my makeup, softening my razor sharp cheekbones and hollow eyes. Foundation smooths my skin and covers the dark circles left by no sleep and terror, gloss hides the tears in my lips where I bit my skin raw. She finishes by sticking on long eyelashes shaped with stars and little blue diamantes. They feel heavy but I eventually get used to them. Then she puts me in a pair of high blue shoes and makes me close my eyes and helps me step into the dress, pulling it up my body and getting my arms through the sleeves. I actually find I'm laughing at the oddness of dressing with my eyes shut. Faora giggled, fiddling with buttons and zips before she smacked my ass. "Ok open your eyes!"

I gasp. I am… I'm me. I don't look starved and terrified. My face actually looks healthy – Beautiful - my green eyes shine. I smile, tears gathering in my eyes at the sight of the dress. It has a high collar of white lace that covers my shoulders and meets a ruched white bodice that goes to my hips before falling to the floor in a wave of sugary white tulle. Faora fusses with my curls, clipping in a starfish that seems to have become my trademark. I wear Megan's bracelet and a collection of sparkly rings on my fingers.

"You look like a Victor now." She smiles. I look… angelic. Innocent, in my white dress and nude lips. I love it, but I'm surprised that she didn't go for blood red or black, considering my murderous rampage to freedom. And then I remember her concern over my alliance with Alexander and I start to think that maybe the unshakable power of the Capitol is waning, if a young girl's desire to save someone so innocent could be such a cause for concern.

I thank Faora over and over for her beautiful creation, the second wave of the drug she gave me kicking in. We're ready to go and we leave my room. Faora pressing a finger to her lips and then pointing at Oliver, who was facing away from us.

A small smile curving my lips, I walked up behind him silently. "What do you think? Too much?" I asked.

Oliver jumped and spun around, his jaw dropping. "You… you…" I laugh at how speechless he is and he wraps me up in a hug that lifts me a few feet off the ground. "You're beautiful." He breathes into my ear and I kiss his cheek in return.

We take a car to the stage for the interview and Oliver comes with me as I'm escorted down a flight of stairs to a dark space under the stage, where I will rise up on a platform just as I did in the Arena.

In the Arena.

I can't breathe. I stop dead in my tracks, clutching at Oliver's shirt as I'm back, sealed into my tribute tube, unable to escape, unable to breathe. "Tess! Tess!" he was saying urgently, trying to drag me back into the real world. I shake in his arms.

"I'm… I'm here."

"Look, she can't do this." Oliver was saying to someone I couldn't see as he helped me sit down on a slightly raised platform.

"No choice, Mr Queen, show starts in three minutes." Says a new voice. "I'm sorry. I'll get her some water." The voice softened and disappeared. Then a cool, crystal glass was being held to my lips.

"Drink, Tess." I did, feeling the cold water clear my head. I blinked up at Oliver. "I have to go now, I have to be on stage."

I grip his hands. "Noooo! Don't leave me here! Stay." I beg.

Oliver nodded and helped me to my feet, moving me so that we were both standing on a metal plate in the floor. "Tell them upstairs I'll come up with Tess. Just do it!" his voice is commanding and in his warm arms, I start to feel safe again. He kissed my lips once. "I'm here, Tess. I'm not going anywhere. We're going into this together, Ok?"

"Ok."

I held tightly to his hand and he tilted my chin up with his free hand as the plate began to rise. This time we aren't in woods, there is no Cornucopia, no children waiting to die with me. Instead there are bright lights and stars and millions of people screaming my name, and then cheering even more when they see me holding Oliver's hand. I force a big smile and wave, refusing to let go of Oliver's hand until the very last minute and they are directing us to seats on stage. I have a throne like chair to myself, Oliver sits with Faora and Eva on a lounge, and Perry White has his traditional seat beside mine.

"Well! Well! We certainly get some surprise entrances out of you, don't we Tess!" Perry says congenially, smiling and shaking my hand. "Now, feel right at home, just relax, it's your big night after all!"

I smile nervously as a hush falls over the crowd. "Thank you." Is just about all I manage to squeak out.

Perry smiles gently at me and slowly I managed to defrost and start answering questions – what did I think of my allies, the Arena, the sponsor gifts. The questions alternate between light and joking, to serious and emotional and all I can think is how good a presenter Perry White is, swooping in when I don't have the words, saving me from falling over the edge of the emotional precipice I was on.

"So are you looking forward to going home, Tess?"

I grin. Is this a trick question? "Of course! My sister will want her bracelet back." I say and Perry and the crowd laugh.

But the real highlight of the evening was when they brought in Oliver to be interviewed as well. The crowd loved him, they always love victors, especially since Oliver is so strong and handsome and perfect.

"Oliver! Oliver, tell us – what an emotional ride for you, watching Tess in the Games. What was going through your head when the Games started?"

He smiled at me, "I was just waiting for the day my girl would come home."

The crowd starts screaming, even Perry White gives a great display of shock. "So the rumours_ are_ true!" he shouts. What rumours? "So, Tess, tell us - you and Oliver Queen?"

I smile a little and look up at Oliver, he's nodding his head slightly. "Are we what?" I ask Perry.

He waits for the audience to quiet down a little before speaking to me, "Are you and Oliver Queen… and item?"

I start giggling. I've just murdered four people with my own hands and he wants to know if I'm dating Oliver Queen. When I've recovered from my display of coquettish giggles I smile at Oliver. "Yes."

The interview is on hold while the crowd goes insane – screaming, crying, cheering.

"Were you together before or after the Games?"

"Before. We met when I was about fifteen. So… what is it now, Oliver, three years?"

"In December." Oliver nods.

"There you go." I smile at Perry.

"But Oliver, how did you feel watching Tess kiss all those Tributes?" Perry asks and the audience screams at the scandal of it all. All those Tributes. He makes it sound like I held an orgy, not two chaste kisses with Zod and Emil.

"Well," Oliver laughs a little, "I'm sure Tess knew what she was doing. But I did have a serious debate about sending her that sword." He kisses my forehead, "I'm joking of course. Tess can do whatever she likes."

"Thanks, Oliver, I'm sure that was meant to reassure me!" I scoff and the audience eat up our banter with a spoon.

"How did that affect you, in the Games, Tess?" Perry turned on me, "Being separated from Oliver, having him mentor you through the Training and the Games?"

All eyes are on me and I guess it's best to just be honest. "I… I had something more than honour, for winning. I could go back to him. Every sponsor gift felt like a gift from him. A reminder that he cared about me. Was waiting for me." I said, tears starting to sting my throat and eyes. "I… everything I did was for him. Because he never gave up on me, never stopped believing in me... I couldn't give up on that."

I'm really crying now and Oliver kindly gives me his handkerchief, coming to sit on the arm of my chair and pull my into his side, stroking my hair. The crowd is crying too and I'm grateful for the comfort of Oliver's arms, where I can hide away from the world. He's talking to Perry but I can't make out his words. Whatever he said has the crowd in a fresh wave of tears and then he's asking me something, his eyes searching mine before he leant down and kissed me.

Stars and darkness burst in my mind and I feel myself stand up out of my chair so I can kiss him back. Somewhere in my mind I can hear whistles and screams, but they're not that loud anymore. It's all a part of the performance, after all. But I love Oliver's kiss, it's keeping me sane and I wrap my arms around his neck, as he pulls me closer to him, a hand in my hair.

Someone tap's me on the shoulder and then Oliver breaks away from me, looking a little dazed. I'm really smiling now, and Foara is trying to pull me away.

"Sit down, sit down! You're a victor not a dewy eyed school girl!" she says to the laughing crowd. Perry and Oliver banter away and I collapse back in my chair, exhausted. But I don't get long to rest, I'm being helped to my feet, standing and waving in front of the crowd for what feel like hours until finally, finally, I am led offstage.

"Where are we going?" I ask breathlessly, being dragged along behind Oliver while Faora tries to touch up the makeup my tears and nervous perspiration are slowly ruining, and gives me a second blue pill.

"Upstairs, top box. Can't miss the movie, can we?" he replies shortly. The top box is much more concealed and comfortable, there is even a platter of fruit and jugs of water and juice. There are still cameras, but I'm above the wild crowd. Then the anthem blares and everyone hushes into silence.

I go straight into numb shock. No number of blue pills could have helped me prepare for this. The video begins with white words on black, an extract from the Treaty of the Treason and the year, The Seventy-Second Hunger Games. This is traditional for the highlights video every year. We smash through the reaping, seeing only the names and faces being called, but they do linger to show me standing on the stage, staring defiantly into the distance. Then we go through the Parade, some shots from training that I didn't even know they were taking, and then a few of the more impressive training scores and my Ten. They show my first interview, in my glorious ocean dress and my speech about Meg and Oliver that supposedly moved everyone to tears.

The audience is sighing and I'm working hard to not break down because we are now in the Arena, with big wide shots and an overhead view of the landscape. We rise out of a Tribute tube and the cameras cut to me, standing on my podium. We blur through the faces of Tributes long dead and then the gong goes off.

I cover my mouth with my hands, trying not to scream as blood flies. I watch Lex slash right through a boy's throat. I watch myself dodge Lana's attack only to turn and throw a knife with deadly precision through District Eight's throat. They show a bit more of the bloodbath that I missed when I ran off with the Careers. Emil getting out with a spear and small backpack, the girl who threw the axe at me is beheaded. I'm gagging, bile rising in my throat and I reach forward for a piece of watermelon so that I can hide my face. I resurface when we are in the woods. They show me and the Careers making camp, Alexander climbing a tree to safety, District One lighting flaming torches and going into the woods to hunt.

And it's all back – the smell of the earth and blood, the sound of the wind in the trees and the whistle of Lois' knife as it sped through the air. I fight the shakes, as flickers tear across my mind, leaving me in a limbo between the interview and the cliff where Emil died.

"Are you ok?" Oliver whispers, his hands on mine. I shake my head, watching as a Tribute is eaten by wild dogs and then there's the fight between me and Regan. I look like a psycho, covered in blood, kicking like a maniac. Below us the crowd goes wild at my display of strength and power. I really think I'm going to throw up, my lips tingling in the way they always do when I'm going to be violently ill. There's my dance with Zod and I watch myself get burnt and Alexander drag me as far as he can, cover me in leaves and go back for our backpacks. I wasn't prepared for the sight of him on screen and my heart bucks painfully in my chest. We catch fish, we find Emil. There is our perfect day at the mulberry tree. The cameras zoom in on my berry stained smile. I feel my stomach lurch again. I know what's about to happen. I bury my face in Oliver's chest as I hear my voice on the speakers, "all children, except one, grow up…"

I don't look up again, not when I hear Megan answering an interviewer's question, or myself screaming for Emil to stay with me. I hide in the warm darkness of Oliver's embrace until I come to in time to see myself get stabbed by Lex and lifted out of the Arena. The editors of the film didn't end it there. They show Oliver fighting through a throng of people in the hospital, rushing to my side and holding my hand, kissing every available inch of my face despite the blood I am covered in, both mine and Lex's. I was so unconscious that I don't do much but bleed all over everyone. I look disgusting, my hair matted, face filthy. But Oliver looks heroic, refusing to leave my side, stroking my ruined hair as doctors try to save what's left of my life. The final scene is of me lying in Oliver's arms, clean in my hospital bed, as we both sleep. The Panem seal blazes for a few seconds and then the crowd goes wild with screams and cheers and whistles and applause. It sounds like war.

I am emotionally drained. So empty that I can't even conjure the tears that threatened me before. I stare blankly and Perry White has to repeat the question three times before I can compute what he's said. But the crowd is still so overwhelmingly loud that my dead reaction is going mostly unnoticed.

"I said, darling, what are you going to do when you get home?"

I glance to Oliver. Perry must be referring to my talent, since being a Victor means I no longer have school or a Reaping to look forward to, I have to work on a talent that would make for good TV, like singing or piano. I shrug at Perry White and decide to answer honestly. "Sleep."

Everyone laughs and I manage a weak smile. I put my hand around Oliver's. "I could really sleep. Then I'll just…" put myself back together. "Stay with my sister Megan. Enjoy my District. You have no idea how much I appreciate life now!" I joke. Somehow I think the drugs Faora gave me are responsible for that one. I remember what Oliver said at my first interview, about making sure the Capitol was flattered and I opened my mouth for my final statement, "But I'll really miss the Capitol. Everything was so… eye-opening."

I smile as ambiguously at my statement and lean back, hopefully Perry gets the hint that I'm done with this stupid game of questions.

We round up the evening, returning to the main stage so I can stand for the presentation of my crown, stepping forward to the centre of the stage. President Luthor strides across the stage, behind him a child of seven carries a golden crown on a white pillow. He holds it up for all of Panem to see, before he turns to me and, his eyes as cold as the deepest night in the Arena, he places the crown on my head.

"Congratulations, Tess." He says, leaning in to kiss me on my cheek. His lips are cool and dry and I have to forcibly fight the instinct to run and fight and hide and scream that threatens to rise up my throat. But he moves away and I am left standing on stage, under the weight of the heavy crown, staring over a sea of people who scream and cheer for my victory.

I cling to Oliver's hand, feeling unbalanced. It doesn't feel like victory yet. Oliver holds my hand up to the sky, I smile more and more despite my whole face aching. My heart aching. I am so happy when I am led off stage and into the shadowy backstage area. I hang on to Oliver, my arms around his neck.

"Thank you. I thought I was going to fall over." I mumble against his skin. He strokes my hair with his free hand. "Can we go home?" I mumble, drifting.

He puts his arm behind my knees and scoops me into his arms. I feel so exhausted that I let him carry me out. Pete is sympathetic when we find him near the exit and Faora keeps stroking my arm, saying something about it being an overwhelming day. My crown starts to slip and I put one hand on my head to hold it in place. There will be parties and interviews and presentations that we all must attend, but I know that, somewhere, a train is waiting to take us home. I lean into Oliver's warm arms and fall asleep.

_To be Continued..._

_Tess' Victor dress is designed by Yaki Ravid, I have put a link to it on my profile page.  
_


	17. Home

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 17 - Home_

"You promised me something." I said to Pete Ross as I dropped into the seat beside him. We have the same train as we did on the journey to the Capitol and it zips through a pine forest on our way back to District Four. I'm going home! But through the excitement, there's anxiety, and sometimes I have to pinch myself to remind myself that it is not the pine forest from the Arena, that I'm not going to be attacked.

Pete turned his dark eyes to me and tugged a lock of my red hair, a smile on his lips. "I did."

"So was it worth it? Did you get the girl in the end?"

He took a small locket on a chain out of his shirt collar and opened it. Inside were two pictures, a smiling blonde girl and a young boy. "I think you knew the answer to that all along."

I smile softly, examining the photos. "Yeah. But I wanted to hear the story from you."

He hugs me and then says what I've wanted him to say for the past week, what I needed to hear. "I'm sorry about Emil. I _know_ it's not enough to say sorry but, we had to make the call to let him die on the cliff. Tess, the alternative was to lose you or condemn him to a more painful end at the hands of another tribute."

I looked at him, my breath coming in pained gasps. Whatever he just said makes no difference, it doesn't help. I feel sick, wanting to crawl out of my skin at the memory of waking up beside Emil's cold, dead body.

Pete puts his hand over mine, and I pull it away sharply. "Tess, I know you're upset now but I hope you'll understand one day." And there are tears in his eyes, tracing down his face in two shining paths.

We both cry. Oliver comes in to the carriage, whatever he was saying died midsentence and he put his arm around me and one hand on Pete's forearm. We grieve together. I feel guilty. Leaning against Oliver, I vow silently that I will not waste my life the way I wasted all those chances to do good in the Arena. But even as I think it, I can feel the white panic that slinks in the back of my mind, refusing to let me go. I don't know how I'm going to cope. I know that waiting for me when I get home will be Megan, and I am dying to see her and hold her, but also there will be a fresh grave in the cemetery for a boy who should have never died so young.

The train carries us onwards through the night. We don't bother going to bed, exhausted by our grief, we victors sit on the couch in silence. But when I wake, shaking and screaming, I am alone in my bed, so I guess Oliver must have carried me in here while I slept.

I wake up slowly, sitting up against the pale blue headboard and organising my thoughts, telling myself that everything I saw in my nightmares was not real. I need to get dressed, ready. The train will be arriving in District Four soon and there will be crowds and cameras and Megan.

I find enough reason in this to get out of bed, have a shower and find a dress in the wardrobe. The one I choose is bright blue that falls to the floor and has one beaded strap over my shoulder that crosses under my bust. I wear flat gold sandals and leave my hair out in waves. I feel more like myself, even though I am a million miles from who I used to be. Pete wolf whistled at me when I joined them for breakfast; it was nice that some things hadn't changed. We ate, I felt the knot in my stomach loosen enough for me to actually enjoy the flavour of my meal, and then Oliver put his hand over mine.

"Go look out the window." He smiled.

I almost knocked over my chair in my haste, rushing to slam my palms against the glass. There was my beautiful, glittering ocean. So much more real and stunning than anything the Gamemakers had created in the Arena. I felt tears sting my eyes and my throat tighten. Oliver joined me and I hugged him tightly.

"I'm home, Oliver." I said against his chest. And then I was suddenly so excited, I could hardly wait for the train to pull into the platform and Eva Greer - who hadn't stopped congratulating me since the day I woke up after the Games - to say it was alright to take my first steps off. Cameras blinded me but I didn't care, walking along the platform. I breathed deep the scent of the ocean, the salt, the fish, the smell of my home.

And there was the noise! Cameras flashed, people cheered and shouted my name. I searched for her face in the crowd. Everyone was waving, cheering, screaming. It isn't the bloodlust filled screams of the Capitol, all crying out for the blood of Twenty-three Tributes who will never come home. No, these cheers are victory and hope. The people of District Four shout my name with joy.

And then I see her. Megan's hair is a pirate flag on the wind, my breath catches at the sight of her, it looks like the weeks of anxiety have aged her. My little sister will be a young woman soon and even though I am not sure where the emotion comes from, I suddenly don't want her to change anymore. She waves, shouts my name and I run to her. I jump clean off the stage, in full view of the cameras. A few people laugh as I bolt towards her, catch her in my arms and spin her around in a circle. I sob into her hair as she hugs me so tight. I can still hear the cheers, but they are fading now. I hold her as Oliver joins us, looping his arm around my shoulders. He kisses me full on the mouth and we hold our joined hands up to the sun. It finally feels like Victory.

After hours of photos and hugging and smiling they let me go. Megan has been stuck to my side like glue since I refused to let her out of my sight and I think she was grateful when we could finally walk home together, Oliver needing to take care of paperwork or something and promising to meet us in the house. She was so quiet, her hand clutched tight around mine. Oliver's house in Victor's Village looked the same as it always had as we crossed the lawn. She left me inside, going to the kitchen where I could hear her making tea.

She hates me, she's terrified to be alone with me. I walk slowly and lean in the kitchen door, watching as she reaches the top cupboard to find mugs. Usually she needs a chair, or Oliver to lift her up, but now she manages on her own.

"So. Do you have a hug for your big sister?" I finally say and find my voice is lacking strength entirely. Megan stops and puts down the mugs, turning to me.

She smiles, "of course I do." She says as she rushes forward and flings her arms around my waist, burying her face against me as I press a kiss to the top of her head, pushing away my insecurities in her warm embrace. "Oh I'm so glad you're back."

"I missed you, Meg. You have no idea how much I missed you." I say, wrapping my arms around her tightly. She squeezed me tight then stepped away.

"Have some tea." She said and carried mugs of steaming tea to the lounge. It felt so weird sitting in the living room, on the clean white sofa. The decorations hadn't changed, the driftwood coffee table, the dried starfish on the windowsill. However now I feel like I don't belong.

"So what have I missed?" I asked. "What did you do while I was away?"

"I stayed with Jamie mostly." She said, sipping her tea. I'm struck by how beautiful Megan is, what a heartbreaker. "She's a great cook, you know, and was really, really nice to me."

"I've been usurped." I laugh. I was never a spectacular cook in the first place.

"She said she'd visit us tomorrow." Megan remarked, looking out the window. My little sister has grown up, I can see it in her eyes and how she's wearing her hair differently. "Oliver's coming."

"Great." I said as the door opened.

"I'm back! Finally, the train's gone and the paperwork is done." He said grimly as he kissed the top of my head then turned to Megan. "Hello, Trouble. See, I brought your sister home as promised. Pay up." Wait, they were betting on me? Idiots, I smirk to myself. Oliver grinned as she jumped into his arms and gave him a big kiss on the cheek before he put her back on her feet, "Is the kettle boiled?" he asked as he walked to the kitchen. Everything was so… normal.

Megan watched him go then came and sat beside me again, leaning into my side. "Here, you'll want this back." I fumbled with the bracelet but she covered my hands with hers. Megan's dark eyes met mine.

"You keep it, Tess. You need it more than I do." I hug her tightly. "And don't worry. We'll be here. I'm so glad you're home."

"Meg…"

"I know." She put her hands over mine, dark eyes wide. "I know that you're not well. Oliver told me, don't tell him I told you, but you know I'll be here for you, I'll help you get better."

"I'm not like one of your dolls, Meg, that you can fix easily. What I did in the Arena… they're things that will haunt me forever and I don't want you to be… burdened by my, my demons." I searched for the words. "I know I'm sick. In my head, it's not a good place. But I also feel, in some weird way, stronger. Like I could survive anything now, because I've survived this." I look up at her, "Is that wrong?"

She looked down at her folded hands, dark hair swinging forward to hide her face. I think I heard her sniff and leant forwards to see if she was crying at the same time she straightened up and gave me a watery smile. "I just don't know, Tess, but if it's any consolation, everyone in the District thinks you're so brave. It's good that you feel strong."

"Yeah, well, now is the time to tell me about any boyfriends you picked up while I was gone, I can weather the shock." I roll my eyes and then yank her over to tickle her like I used to when she was younger. Megan collapsed in giggles.

"Mercy!" she pleaded through the laughter and, despite everything I thought, I found myself laughing too.

We sit in silence, I play with her hair, loving that she was fine and happy and here. There was a knock at the door, which she bounced over to answer and admit about five of her friends, who all grinned and hugged me en masse.

"Hi, Tess! We're so glad you're back, Tess! You were amazing in the Games, Tess!" They trilled like a flock of excited birds.

"Meg, there's going to be a bonfire at the beach for celebration, do you want to come help set up, we're all going down now." Says one of the girls.

Megan looked to me and I nodded. She grinned. "Go have fun with your friends." I say and she jumps up to kiss my cheek before running off with her friends. The house suddenly feels too big, but Oliver steps up and hugs me from behind, making me jump.

"Shh." He soothed, lips against my shoulder, "Nothing can hurt you here." He said and I turned in his embrace, meeting his eyes.

Lips collide and hands run through hair as we both pull each other as close as possible. His kiss burns against my mouth, hands running under clothes as I try to feel every part of his skin, like he does to mine.

"Oliver." I whisper his name as my knees buckle and I cling to his shoulders to keep my balance, his lips drag across my throat. I've missed him so much, his touch, his kisses. "I love you." I say.

He pulls back and brushes his lips gently over my closed eyelids. "I love you too, Tess. I love you so much."

I kiss him again as he pushes me back on the sofa. "No, let's go upstairs." I push his chest back a little and he pulls me back to my feet. "You know, I've really missed my bed." I remark as we run up the stairs and into our room. I take a running jump and throw myself onto the bed with a groan of delight as I sink into the mattress. I'm home. Oliver follows, laughing, his body over mine as he kisses me hard and we don't waste another second making up for all our lost time.

The year passes. The horrors don't fade.

I spend a lot of time at the beach these days. You would think, that after everything I lost on that cliff and how I almost died on that beach, that I would hate the place. But it's always been beautiful to me and I wouldn't want to be away from it. The sound of the waves are soothing, they drown out the sounds of death that never quite leave my mind. If I hold a seashell to my ear I can sometimes hear the voices of the Tributes laughing over the sound of the trapped waves. I like to think they are laughing.

I don't have to work, my Victory money comes in the mail once a month and it's a sum so grand I don't know how or what to spend it on. I don't have to go to school anymore and Faora sends me boxes of books and clothes every other week from the Capitol to keep me occupied. My Victory tour will start after the New Year and then I will mentor the girl Tribute with Oliver for the Seventy-third Games. I don't know what to do with my empty days, aside from walk on the beach, help Meg with her homework and try to stay away from the things that send my mind straight back into the Arena.

I'm trying so hard, searching to find beauty in each day. To be happy that I have my life. It's not easy, not when I watch Megan practice her knife throwing – because she is not safe from the Games yet – or when Emil's mother turned away from me in the market, her eyes red from crying. I hover in half light of depression and normalcy. Some days I feel strong, and some days I don't, just waiting, hoping things will be normal again one day.

The nightmares never go.

I left the house early, when the sand is still cool. The sun was rising it the water and turned it into a great, silver mirror when Oliver found me. He doesn't say anything, just sits with me and waits for me to speak.

"I always wondered how you survived it." I said. "The aftermath." I looked at Oliver, his chocolate eyes full of pain. Things haven't been going well for us. I don't sleep, lying awake at night, terrified of the nightmares that begin whenever I close my eyes. And when I do fall asleep, I always wake screaming in terror. I've made myself sick on more than one occasion. "I wondered how you didn't kill yourself."

Oliver reached over and laced our fingers together. "I stayed alive because of you." Our eyes met again. "I wanted to. I won't lie; I wanted to end it on so many times. But I couldn't give you up."

_I love him._

"I used to resent Mercy." I whispered. "Because she was the first girl to save you. She had a part of you that I never could." I had never voiced it before, the underlying jealousy that Mercy was the girl he wanted to save. "And then I was Reaped. And I realised that I was a part of the problem for you. Because I couldn't really understand what you went through in your Arena." I looked out to the ocean, thinking about all the times I had cried at Emil's grave, just like he cried at Mercy's. How I wake from nightmares, watching Oliver die in my arms, because the thought of losing him as well is unbearable to me. "And now I do."

"I wouldn't have wanted it for you." Oliver said, turning my face so I had to look at him. "Yes, I loved Mercy. But I couldn't save her. And then I met you. And… I fell in love with you. Because you were so pure and beautiful…" He is silent for a long time, taking my hand in his. "_You_ were my first save, Tess. And you saved me right back. The first person who made being a Victor a good thing. You didn't care that I was rich, or what I did to survive and if anything, that helped. I didn't feel like I had to relive the Games when I was with you."

I nod, our silent words have finally been given a voice. I stood up and he followed and we walked silently to the water's edge. "Will I ever be ok again?" I asked, the water swelling up around my calves as we stepped deeper in. "Will _we _ever be ok again?"

Oliver held my hands until we were standing at arms-length, the water taking hold of my dress. "Don't do this, Tess." But I walk further backwards, pulling him with me because neither of us can let go of our linked hands.

"It's ok, Oliver… just, please, tell me a time when we were happy." I ask him.

He shook his head, stepped forwards so his chest was against mine with a blazing look in his eye. "I don't know a time. Because I was happy, I am, every goddamn second I am with you."

And he kissed me. My body swooned against him as he plundered my lips with his, his hand tangling in my hair to pull me closer. _I love this man_. My hands went to his chest, clenching his shirt so I could hold on to him as he tilted my head back. I saw stars swirl behind my eyelids. I hold onto them, they are so much more beautiful than the horrors I usually see when I close my eyes. "You were always the one." He said fiercely. "I love you. And I know it hurts, but we are ok. We are victors and we didn't survive the Arena to just waste our lives out here."

"Oliver…" I want to believe him, I do. But the nightmares and the memories are a poison that I can't draw myself out of. All this darkness in my veins.

"I love you, Tess. Don't give up, ok."

I kissed him, our love is as deep as the ocean, it is one of the beautiful things I try to find in each day. "I love you, too, Oliver. Forever." And wrapped in his strong arms, we let the water take us.

...


	18. Epilogue

The Undiscovered Country

The escort moves across the stage to the Reaping ball that holds the girl's names. Thousands of slips of paper. I think, pray, beg: don't let it be me or Megan or Jamie. But these wishes don't ever come true do they? Because the name that echoes around the square is "Tess Mercer!" ... Tess is reaped for the 72nd Annual Hunger Games. Tollie, Lexana, Clois.

Not mine, all rights to Suzanne Collins and DC Comics.

* * *

_Chapter 18 - Epilogue_

District Four is rebuilt slowly, surviving through the damage done when the Capitol dropped bombs on our heads. We were lucky - Megan, Oliver and I - hiding in our basement, hoping that for the first time there would be three victors for this new Arena we had been thrown into. It's like Pete said, it's amazing what human beings can live through.

Oliver and I put the pieces of our lives back together. Slowly. Gently. For a long time each new day was both promise and relapse. We held each other through the nightmares, we try to hold on to who we were before the Games. We fight, we spin away in fury and make love with passion. We always come back to each other.

In the end, I wasn't the one to change the world. I was not the Mockingjay, the Girl on Fire who rose up and overthrew the Capitol. Oliver tells me that I changed our world in my own way, my own small revolution in the lives of District Four's people. He says I gave them hope. I only did what I thought would help, doing my best to mentor and train and giving most of my victory money to Emil's family. I brought them food from the grocers every day, even though it took his mother a whole year before she could look me in the eye. In truth, I was too ashamed to myself. But seeing those boys be free of tesserae and having full meals slowly chipped away the guilt I felt.

There are no more Hunger Games. The president's mansion is being rebuilt as a school, a beacon of hope for the new world that was created from the ashes.

They say this is the Peace. But I can't accept it entirely. My whole life, Peace was traded for in the blood of our children. I'm still looking over my shoulder, terrified that it will all collapse, and the desire for revenge will outweigh our hope for a better future. But it hasn't happened yet. It took me a Rebellion to agree and then another seven years, but watching Alexander play on the library floor with toy soldiers is worth the wait. I didn't want children before. I couldn't bring a child into a world where an Arena waited to take them to their death. But the Arenas are being taken apart, the land they were built on being reclaimed into farmland, crops for food, or simply left to be forgotten about. Just a bad dream from our childhood. Their power over us is gone.

And Oliver wanted it so badly. He needed a child, and I did too. I needed to see that it could be good again. That after living in so much darkness, I could finally step into the light and not feel ashamed.

It's sometimes hard to let go, when I want to scream and blaze against a government that I have to keep reminding myself no longer exists. Times that I hide under blankets and refuse to come out, frozen in a grief I can barely comprehend. I don't let go of nineteen years of bitter hatred in a day. But Oliver slowly manages, and I do too. I manage for the sake of our child.

We named him Alexander. He looks so much like Oliver, except for his eyes, he has my eyes. He has the blood of two Victors running through his veins and I have to remind myself that he is born from two survivors, he will be alright. He scares me sometimes. He's so adventurous, the world is his to conquer. He doesn't know fear the way Oliver and I do. He flies free of those burdens, and in a way, he takes us with him. His laugh is my favourite thing to hear; his imaginative games make me smile. For the first time in ten years, we are truly happy.

I know I can't protect him from the truth, from what Oliver and I were forced to do in the Arena. He will learn about this nation's history when he goes to school. What the people in power did to keep their insane, crumbling empire intact. He doesn't understand my tears at night, but I know I don't have nightmares when I hold him. He is my light now. Slowly, slowly the darkness disappears.

Megan moved on with her life and she has a family of her own now, two beautiful daughters named Lily and Marina. They play with Alexander, they dote on him and lavish him with love and attention. Lily presents me with a bunch of seaside daisies in pure white and I think that someday she must grow up, as every child must grow up. But for now they are all perfect. This is our true victory. Oliver and I watch them as the sun sets over the endless beach, and the horizon stretches outwards to all the undiscovered countries that wait for us.

_Fin _

_AN: I didn't fit this into the epilogue, but in the two years between Chapter 17 and the Epilogue, Tess and Oliver were mentors for the 73__rd__ and 74__th__ Games but step down for the Third Quarter Quell because of the coming Rebellion where they didn't want to risk being separated from Megan, so they stayed in Four._

_Thank you to all who reviewed and faved and followed, I really appreciate it. A big thanks also goes to HaveNoMercy and Thornleaf, for their awesome advice/occasional Beta-ing. Lastly, I owe my survival research to _The SAS Survival Handbook_, by John 'Lofty' Wiseman.  
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_I hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I loved writing this fic. Love YH. _


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